A Strange Kind of Beautiful
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: 100 drabbles about love.::2. Arthur fixes Molly an unusual breakfast.
1. Healing in the Library (Drinny)

_Holmes: gold_

 _Book Club, Greta: monster, Ginny, scars_

 _Attic, Human Centipede: connection_

 _Showtime, Hitting on All Sevens: library_

 _Lyric Alley: I want you to notice_

 _Audio, Thriller: fanon pairing_

 _Guess the Name, Hayden: Ginny_

 _Pizza, Shaped Crust: sky blue_

 _Gris-Gris: Ginny_

 _Word Count: 368_

* * *

"I've been looking everywhere for you."

Ginny barely even glances up when she hears the familiar voice. Her attention is fixed upon the tattered remains of the book in her hands—burgundy with a gold spine, burned and ruined the war, much like everything and everyone else.

"Gin?"

She finally looks at Draco, and it just hurts so damn bad.

She hadn't expected to grow close to him, but it had been inevitable. They had both been pawns in a monster's terrible game. They've both been broken down and twisted.

Now, that connection is gone. There shouldn't be anything keeping them together, and Draco should be off, trying to pick up his own pieces. Instead, he stands before her. He's been _looking_ for her.

"Everything will be okay," he tells her, and she wonders how he can say it so confidently, how he can still have faith in the world.

Without responding, she glances around the ruins of the library. It had once been her favorite place to hide away. Now, there is nothing safe about it. War really has destroyed everything.

"I'm sorry about—"

Before he can say it—she doesn't want to hear it, doesn't want to hear it, doesn't want anyone's pity—she turns, gripping his face gently in her hands and kissing him.

"Didn't think you would want to do that," Draco says, pale cheeks flushing a dusty pink, "since Potter is back, and all."

"Harry hasn't been what I've wanted for a while," she answers with a shrug before continuing her walk among the overturned shelves.

"Why me?" he asks, pausing to nudge a sky blue book to the side.

Ginny doesn't have an answer. She's always wanted someone to notice her the way Draco has, to care for her. Now that she has that, she can't even appreciate it properly. The world is falling apart and she is still afraid.

"Do you think the scars will ever heal?" she asks.

He moves to her side, gently taking her hand in his. "I think so," he says, offering her hand a reassuring squeeze. "It will just take time."

She doesn't know if that's true or if she believes it. But it's enough to give her hope.


	2. Birthday Breakfast (ArthurMolly)

_Costume Party: "Don't. Please don't." and dancing_

 _Pizza, Bechamel: white_

 _Boyfriend Checklist: chocolate cake_

 _Gris-Gris: embarrassed_

 _Crafty Corner, Cereal Killer: breakfast time_

 _Word Count: 352_

* * *

Molly feels completely ridiculous when she hurries downstairs. She never oversleeps, but now it's well past her usual time to wake up. Arthur must think so poorly of her!

Still wearing her white nightgown—just another little embarrassment, but she couldn't risk changing into something appropriate and delaying breakfast even longer—she rushes into the kitchen, cheeks burning a deep red. "I'm so sorry, Arthur!" she says. "I shouldn't have overslept. I just—"

She comes to a stop, blinking in confusion. Arthur smiles at her from the kitchen table. Instead of a healthy, hearty breakfast, there's a chocolate cake in the middle of the table.

"I let you oversleep, Mollywobbles," her husband tells her, climbing to his feet and making his way over to her. He takes her hands gently in his as he kisses her cheek.

"Why would you do that? And… aren't you going to be late for work?"

It's so strange to her. They've had a routine down for the past year. She wakes before him and fixes breakfast. They eat together and talk about their hopes for the day, enjoying one another's company. Why would their morning change so suddenly and without warning?

"I've taken the day off," he says proudly.

"Oh, Arthur. Why would you do that?"

Without answering, he leads her into a slow, awkward dance in middle of the kitchen. Molly giggles, confused but amused.

"What are you doing?" she asks, still laughing.

" _Happy birthday to you,"_ he sings. " _Happy birthday to you._ "

"Don't." She buries her face in his shirt. "Please don't."

Arthur comes to a stop and pulls away slightly so that Molly can look at him. "Why are you opposed to your birthday, dear?"

Molly sighs. She knows she's being silly, but she really can't help it sometimes. "Because I'm getting older," she answers. "Soon I'll be grey and wrinkled."

"And you'll still be absolutely beautiful," he tells her. "Now, come on. Breakfast awaits."

Maybe she should be horrified by the idea of having cake for breakfast, but she just smiles and lets Arthur prepare her plate. It's going to be a good day.


	3. Ridiculous, Happy (ChoGabrielle)

_Gobstones, yellow (autumn): lilac, "Am I doing this right?", behave_

 _Costume Party: Cho, fluff_

 _Gris-Gris: Gabrielle Delacour_

 _Pizza, Ricotta: no Gryffindors_

 _Mad Hatter Day: "We're all mad here."_

 _Autumn: leaf pile_

 _Elemental: "I love being outside, and I love the fresh air."- Brian Stokes Mitchell_

 _Dessert, Chocolate buttercream: "You're lucky you're pretty."_

 _Ravenclaw: Cho Chang_

 _Star Chart, Leonids Meteor Shower: frozen_

 _Character Appreciation: blonde_

 _Showtime, Grace For Sale: ivy_

 _Lyric Alley: I'm a weirdo_

 _Word Count: 523_

* * *

Cho knows she must look silly with the rake in her hands, scraping the long metal prongs over the ground. Some people like to whisper that she's wasting her magic because she likes to do things the Muggle way, but she doesn't care. There's something about the fresh, autumn air and the soft crunch of leaves beneath her feet that makes her want to be out here and getting her hands dirty.

Besides, magic is cheating. The best part about jumping into leaf piles is forming the piles in the first place.

She props her rake against the tree before admiring her handiwork. The leaf pile is the perfect size, and it's nice and round. A proud grin tugs at her lips.

"You're lucky you're pretty." Gabrielle appears on the porch, holding a cup of frozen coffee. "Otherwise I might 'zink you mad."

Cho smiles at her girlfriend. "We're all mad here," she says softly before diving into the leaves, laughing as they cling to her hair. She sits up and shakes her head, sending a shower of leaves drifting to the ground. "Come on! Join me!"

Gabrielle studies her for several moments. She pushes a hand through her sleek blonde hair. "What are you doing?"

Cho rises her feet, brushing a few stray leaves from her lilac jumper. It's strange that Gabrielle isn't familiar with the greatest autumn tradition. Sometimes Cho thinks her girlfriend is a little too well-behaved. "You rake the leaves into a pile," she explains. "Then… you jump."

Gabrielle raises her brows; she doesn't look convinced. "Why?"

"It's… Well, it's fun."

Cho rubs her palms over the back of her neck, suddenly feeling awkward. This has been her favorite thing about autumn since her childhood. She remembers being a little girl and watching the leaves fall, waiting for her father to tell her it was time to tidy the yard. Now, she's beginning to wonder if she's just strange.

Gabrielle sets her coffee aside, pausing for a moment to check the lid. Satisfied, she makes her way into the yard. "Show me."

Cho grins before Summoning the rake. She begins the tedious task of raking stray leaves into a neat pile once again. "And then you jump."

Gabrielle purses her lips. She takes a step back before breaking into a graceful trot and jumping. Cho tries not to laugh as her girlfriend lands on her feet, still upright. "Am I doing 'zis right?" she asks, smiling brightly at Cho.

"Not quite, darling. You have to really get in there. Budge over a bit."

Gabrielle does. Cho takes a moment to measure and calculate. It's been a while since she's done this with another person, and she would for Gabrielle's first experience to be ruined by being knocked to the ground. Once she's sure it's just right, Cho lunges forward, diving into the leaves.

"You look ridiculous!" Gabrielle says, laughing as Cho tackles her gently and pulls her into the leaves.

"Ridiculous," Cho echoes, leaning back, staring at the little ivy-covered cottage that they call home. "But happy."

Gabrielle leans in, placing a kiss on Cho's lips. "All 'zat matters."


	4. Running Out (RegulusPeter)

_Gobstones, silver (memories): piano, hiding, fault_

 _Pizza, thick crust: Peter_

 _Boyfriend Checklist: meaningful moment where the couple holds hands_

 _Gris-gris: ominous_

 _Bingo: Pumpkin Pasties_

 _Character Appreciation: Malfoy Manor_

 _Disney: "What are you going to do?"/"I'm going to do the best I can."_

 _Book Club, Barbara: calm, "We all have our scars, [Name].", prayer_

 _Showtime, 666: consequence_

 _Lyric Alley: I don't belong here_

 _Sophie's Shelf, Norman Bates: "We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you?"_

 _Emporium: confused_

 _Autumn: chill_

 _Colors: cinnamon_

 _Word Count: 719_

* * *

Peter hates Lucius' home. This is hardly the first time he's gotten lost and ended up in the wrong room. It's embarrassing, really.

When he opens the door, he's surprised to find Regulus sitting at the piano inside. Peter hesitates, confused. Since this is his cousin's house, it's highly unlikely Regulus is lost too. He doesn't look remotely distressed as he sits at the piano, pinching a bit of a Pumpkin Pasty.

"What are you doing in here?" Peter asks, well aware that he has no room to ask when he's also in a place he doesn't belong.

Regulus looks up, grey eyes bright when he sees Peter. He moves along the bench and pats the spot beside him. "Are you hiding too?"

"Hiding?" Peter echoes, moving closer and sitting next to Regulus. "What are you hiding from?"

It's amazing how similar Regulus is to Sirius. Both seem so confident, like nothing should be able to touch them, but they have more issues and insecurities than should be possible. What could someone like Regulus have to hide from? Peter thinks that if he could be like Regulus, he would never hide.

"We all have our scars, Peter," Regulus says, and the way he's so calm, so casual is ominous. "It's easier to hide from them sometimes."

A dry laugh spills from Peter's lips. He knows it better than anyone. _Don't let the monsters in my head get me_ has become something of a prayer for him. He is well aware of his scars, of how damaged he is.

But he still doesn't understand how anything can be wrong with Regulus.

"Do you remember the first time I met?" Regulus asks quietly. "You were just as lost as you are now, desperately trying to find your way." He chuckles, shaking his head. "You make such a lovely damsel in distress."

Peter feels his cheeks burn at the reminder. He pushes a hand through his dirty blond hair, swallowing dryly. "I'm not a damsel," he mutters, but he knows it isn't quite true. He's always been absolutely hopeless.

"Do you ever think about the consequences of what we're doing?" Regulus asks, pinching off another bit of the Pumpkin Pasty. "I mean, it's no one's fault but our own. We made the choice, and…" He trails off, pausing to smooth out the creases of his cinnamon shirt.

Peter waits for him to continue, but Regulus remains silent. A chill grips him. "Isn't it a bad dangerous to talk like that here?" he asks, looking around. No one has found them yet, but he is painfully aware that the manor is filled with Death Eaters who might overhear them.

Regulus' lips quirk into an ominous, unsettling smile. "We all go a little mad sometimes," he says with a shrug. "Haven't you?"

Peter doesn't understand, but he doesn't have a chance to ask. Regulus takes his hand, holding it gently, his thumb brushing over Peter's knuckles.

"I wish we had more time," Regulus says with a hollow laugh. "I think we could have been happy together."

Peter stares at him, unsure what to say for several moments. He swallows dryly, head tipping to the side. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to do the best I can," Regulus answers with a smile. "In the meantime…" He leans in, kissing Peter gently. "I've always wanted to do that."

Peter touches his fingertips to his lips, trying to process everything. People like Regulus aren't supposed to kiss people like him. "Why?"

"Because I've always admired you," Regulus says. "You probably don't remember noticing me, but I've watched you since I was eleven. I wanted to make memories with you. Now… I'm afraid it's too late."

"It doesn't have to be," Peter says quietly.

Before Regulus can answer, the door opens, and Lucius stands in the doorway, staring at them with raised brows. "If you two are quite done," he drawls, "we would like to begin the meeting."

Regulus releases Peter's hand and slides his long legs over the piano bench, standing. "Guess we'll have to make the best of what we have."

Peter watches him walk away, staring in confusion. He doesn't know what's going through Regulus' mind. All he knows is it must be a dark place, and their time is running out.


	5. Worries (SeverusPoppy)

_Gris-gris: dialogue only_

 _Apple Bobbing: Poppy Pomfrey_

 _Pizza, green peppers: "I don't like this."_

 _Character Appreciation: lying_

 _Crafty Corner, paper bat: Severus Snape_

 _Showtime, Good Little Dictation Machines: dialogue only_

 _Rosemary's Baby: pregnancy_

 _Sophie's Shelf, Esther Coleman: "Stop talking to me like I'm a child!"_

 _Word Count: 357_

* * *

"Stop talking to me like I'm a child! I'm a grown woman, Severus!"

"I know you are, Poppy, but that isn't the point. You may not be a child, but you are _with_ child. _My_ child."

"I'm well aware of my condition. Can you imagine the scandal if anyone knew? The school's Healer and… and…"

"A known Death Eater, yes. Whether you keep this secret or not is irrelevant. You are doing too much; it isn't good for the baby!"

"I don't like this. It isn't like I can just take it easy, Severus. With your friends—"

"I would hardly call the Carrows my friends…"

"—running around, hurting my students, what choice do I have? We don't have another Healer on hand, and these students need help. Minerva can only do so much."

"Can you really blame me for being concerned? It's dangerous out there, Poppy!"

"You think I don't know that? I have to see these students so beyond just hurt. Have you ever seen an eleven year old who was completely _broken_ , Severus?"

"I don't like this. You need to rest. If anything happened to you or our baby, I don't know what I'll do."

"Fine. I'll retire. Run off and stay home, tending to our baby."

"No need to lie, Poppy. Such a blatant lie, at that."

"I'm sorry, Severus. I have to protect the kids too. I'm not pushing myself too hard."

"When this is all over, do you think there's hope for us?"

"Your name will be cleared, and you'll be hailed a hero, darling. We'll run off to the sea and lead a simple life together."

"Such a beautiful lie."

…

"Who is it, Minerva? Is it—"

"I'm so sorry, Poppy…"

"Severus…"

…

"I told your father that the three of us would have a life together here. It's beautiful, isn't it? I always wanted a little cottage by the sea.

"They'll try to tell you your father was a bad man, sweet girl, but that's a lie. He was good. The world will never know how good he was. But he was amazing. I'm just sorry you'll never meet him."


	6. Scared (Deamus)

_Apple Bobbing: Seamus_

 _Gris-Gris: Dean_

 _Pizza, Mozzarella: "I think I'm dying."_

 _Boyfriend Checklist: Write about a movie night_

 _Showtime, A Penny For a Tale: beg_

 _Amber's Attic, Scream: "What's your favorite scary movie?"_

 _Count Your Buttons: "Did you hear that?"_

 _Sophie's Shelf, Michael Myers: Halloween_

 _Film Festival: "What's your favorite scary movie?"_

 _Word Count: 387_

* * *

"What's your favorite scary movie?" Dean asks.

Seamus raises his brows, and Dean sighs. Sometimes he forgets that he and Seamus grew up in different worlds. Even if Seamus is a half-blood, he doesn't know much about Muggle culture. Unfortunately, it seems that his lack of knowledge extends to the best Halloween tradition ever—staying in all night and having a marathon of the greatest horror movies.

"What the hell is that?" Seamus asks.

"Films made just to scare you," Dean answers with a broad grin.

"Why would you watch something just to get scared?" Seamus shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "Muggles are so weird."

"Please?" Dean doesn't want to beg, but he will if he has to. "It's Halloween. What else are we going to do?"

Seamus hesitates, pushing a hand through his sandy hair, seeming to lose himself in thought for several moments. Finally, he shrugs, offering Dean a small smile. "If it means that much to you, let's do it."

…

Dean can't even focus on the television. Seamus' eyes are wide. His hand lingers before his mouth, fingers clutched around a few pieces of popcorn.

"Why is she going back in the house?" he demands. "Run, you daft wally! The killer is right bloody there!" Seamus turns to Dean, clearly offended. "Is she stupid?"

"Watch the movie," Dean says, fighting a laugh.

"Did you hear that?" Seamus asks. "Are the doors locked?"

Dean grins, shaking his head. He remembers the first time his mum let him watch a horror movie. He had been just as scared as Seamus is now. "Everything is fine. Watch the movie."

Seamus settles down, snuggling close to Dean, though he's still tense. Still grinning, Dean kisses his boyfriend's forehead and holds him close.

…

"I think I'm dying," Seamus groans as he and Dean watch the credits of the fourth movie roll. "My heart… I can't handle another movie."

Dean laughs. "I'll protect you from the monsters," he says.

Seamus shakes his head. "Nope. That's the last one for the night. I need a long cuddling session after that."

Dean considers. There are so many more movies he wants to introduce Seamus to, and he's a little disappointed that he can't. Still, any chance to lay in bed and hold his boyfriend is good with him. "Come on. Let's go."


	7. Risk (TedAndromeda)

_Gris-Gris: wine glass_

 _Pizza, focaccia: "You're not what I expected."_

 _Apple Bobbing: kissing_

 _Character Appreciation: sacrifice_

 _Showtime, Kiss the Girl: blowing a kiss_

 _Lyric Alley: You're just like an angel_

 _Emporium: connection_

 _Word Count: 358_

* * *

Even though Andromeda is certain of her feelings for Ted, it still feels like such a betrayal. She knows what's expected of her, what her life is supposed to be like. Rabastan Lestrange will be her husband once she finishes Hogwarts. Entertaining ideas of a future with Ted is ridiculous and dangerous, and she knows she shouldn't.

But she can't help it. Ted Tonks is like no one she's ever met before. He is so pure, so good, and it scares her that she's willing to risk everything for some boy.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Ted asks, carefully filling their wine glasses halfway.

Andromeda doesn't know how he has wine. Hufflepuffs are close to the kitchens, so maybe she shouldn't be surprised.

She takes her glass and swirls the burgundy liquid around before sipping. "You're not what I imagined," she says. "I always thought Muggleborns were… Well, my parents didn't exactly paint people like you in the best light."

Ted offers her a nervous smile. He scrubs his palm over his fair hair. "I noticed," he chuckles, shaking his head. "Your older sister made sure I knew she thought poorly of me."

Andromeda winces. She's always had doubts about her parents' obsession with blood purity, but her sisters are happy to go along with it. Even though she has tried to believe, so desperate to make her parents happy, Andromeda can't. Ted is the only Muggleborn she knows, but she's never felt such a strong connection with anyone until now.

"Sorry about Bellatrix," she mutters.

Ted blows her a kiss. "Nothing to apologize for," he says with a shrug. "You can't control how your family reacts to the world, just how you do."

He moves closer, and Andromeda swallows dryly. She's spent months imagining how beautiful her life could be with Ted. Why is it so tempting to try, to sacrifice everything for a Muggleborn Hufflepuff?

"What are you thinking about?" he asks quietly.

"How in love with you I am," she answers before setting her wine glass aside and capturing his lips in a kiss.

Loving him is dangerous, but she thinks it might be worth it.


	8. Good News (SybillRita)

_Holmes: character stamping their foot_

 _Book Club, Martin: tunnel, sunglasses, Sybill_

 _Showtime, The Watchword's Hour: reporter/journalist_

 _Lyric Alley: In a beautiful world_

 _Gris-gris: "You're going to regret it."_

 _Word Count: 344_

* * *

"You're going to regret it."

Rita scowls, stamping her foot. She wants to throw a tantrum, to rage and scream. This is the promotion she's been waiting for. After years of being written off as some talentless journal, she finally has the chance to prove herself as a journalist. No more brief, unimportant articles. She has the chance to finally write something worth reading!

Unfortunately, her girlfriend doesn't seem to think so, and Rita hates it. Is Sybill just being stubborn? Has she actually had a vision? She doesn't provide any insight, and all Rita can do is stare at her, waiting.

"It feels like you're in a tunnel," Sybill says, pacing anxiously. "This promotion seems lovely, but I can _See_ , Rita, my love. It's endless. You will never escape the labyrinth."

Rita resists the urge to roll her eyes. Why Sybill has to speak in riddles is a mystery.

"There is no labyrinth," Rita assures her, pushing her sunglasses off her face and onto her head before moving closer. She wraps her arms around Sybill, pressing a chaste kiss to the taller woman's lips. "Everything is going to be fine."

Sybill doesn't look convinced. With an apologetic smile, she pulls away and begins to pace the length of the kitchen. She wrings her hands together anxiously, muttering under her breath.

Rita sighs deeply. She appreciates that Sybill is concerned about her. Maybe she truly believes whatever feeling she's getting. Still, it's a little irritating.

"I love you," Rita says softly as Sybill continues her frantic trek from wall to wall. "That's why this is great. Think of all the things we can do if I have this job, Sybbie. It'll be so beautiful. I can take care of you. We can finally have that wedding."

"Nothing good will come of this."

Rita doesn't know what else to say. For now, she decides to drop it. Sybill doesn't see what a beautiful world they can build together, and Rita doesn't want to pressure her.

For now, she has to hope Sybill will come around.


	9. In the Leaves (Rabdromeda)

_Marauders Map: teacup, Rabastan_

 _Character Appreciation: pure-blood_

 _Showtime, Chava Ballet Sequence: affectionate_

 _Emporium, fireworks: romance_

 _Arcade, Tawna: experience, "I want you.", cream_

 _Bex's Basement, Ant Man: "I ruined the moment, didn't I?"_

 _Around the Board, 12 Grimmauld Place: a member of the Black family_

 _Word Count: 344_

* * *

"What's this?" Andromeda asks, brows raising as she watches Rabastan swirl the tea leaves around in the teacup.

He looks up, dark eyes twinkling mischievously. "Did I ever tell you I can predict the future?" He gestures for her to sit across from him; almost reluctantly, she obliges, her curiosity getting the best of her. "I knew you would be intrigued."

Andromeda rolls her eyes and leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. "I'm not _intrigued,_ " she insists. "I just want to see you make a fool of yourself."

Though her words might sound rude to most, she knows Rabastan knows she's being affectionate. He offers her a smile as he carefully drains the shallow water. Unable to resist, Andromeda leans in closer, trying to make sense of the strange blobs of tea leaves.

"Interesting," Rabastan says as he turns the cup this way and that. "Very interesting."

Andromeda rolls her eyes. It's clear that Rabastan is having a go. "You don't actually have any experience with this, do you?"

"That's what you think," Rabastan says, pushing the teacup forward. "See that shape by the handle. It means you're going to marry a pure-blood."

She snorts. "Like you?" she teases.

The way his expression falls is like a punch in the gut. She's spent years assuming her feelings for him are unrequited. Is it really possible that he feels the same?

"I ruined the moment, didn't I?" she asks sheepishly, nervously brushing her thumb over her cream-colored blouse.

"Little bit," Rabastan confirms.

She winces. "I want you. Just for the record." She rakes her fingers through her dark curls. "I've loved you since we were children."

He smiles at that. She can still see the tension in his shoulders, but at least he's smiling smiling again. "See? I told you I could predict the future."

"We aren't _married,_ " she points out. "We've just admitted our feelings for one another."

Rabastan grins, shrugging. "All great romances start somewhere."

He's right. She isn't sure where this is going to lead, but she's ready to see.


	10. Changes (HelgaRowena)

_Marauders Map: Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff_

 _Disney, Shiny: Write about someone changing their appearance_

 _Amber's Attic, Heathers: Write about taking something_

 _Ami's Audio, The Crystal Kingdom: mirror_

 _Days, Beautiful Day: "You're beautiful."_

 _Piñata, fluff_

 _Around the Board, Honeydukes: fluff_

 _Word Count: 531_

* * *

Helga doesn't know why she suddenly feels inferior, but she does. It's all too clear to her that women like Rowena do not love women like her..

She stands in front of the mirror, and she sees every flaw in perfect detail.

Flour stains her weathered dress. Her nails are dirty. Her blonde hair, pulled back in a tight braid, makes her look too plain.

Helga sighs and turns away, pinching the bridge of her nose. If she wants Rowena to fall in love with her, she's going to have to change; there's no way around it.

…

Helga feels uncomfortable in the black gown. It's finer than anything she's ever owned, and she barely recognizes the women staring back at her.

This Helga is different. The old Helga would spend hours cooking and baking or tending to her beloved plants. But she cannot be that woman anymore. If she wants Rowena to notice her, to love her, she has to be sophisticated–sophisticated or at least she has to pretend.

It hurts, making the decision to live a lie. Still, if it means fishing happiness in the end, she can live with that sacrifice.

…

"Helga?" Rowena smiles as she makes her way over. "I almost did not recognize you."

Helga swallows dryly. She wishes she could think of something clever to say, but her illusion only goes so far. She can look the part, but she will never truly be what Rowena desires.

"You look…" Rowena clears her throat and offers Helga an uncertain smile. "To be honest, you look uncomfortable. Why don't you change?"

"I have changed," Helga sighs. "That's the problem."

She can't seem to stop the words from coming out. Without even meaning to, she tells Rowena everything. Somehow, it brings her relief. As she talks about her feelings for Rowena, her desire to change into some sophisticated, beautiful woman who is worthy of her, Helga can feel a weight lifting from her shoulders. It's a terrifying confession, but it seems to set her free.

Smiling, Rowena reaches out, slender fingers brushing over Helga's cheek. "Silly girl," she says fondly. "You're beautiful. Do you really not see this?"

Helga's cheeks burn. She turns quickly, shaking her head. "I must go," she mutters.

Before she walk away, Rowena curls her fingers around her wrist. Helga thinks she should be able to pull away easily enough, but the gentle touch is strangely comforting. Her feet forget how to work.

"Don't go," Rowena says, and there's no denying the pleading in her voice. "Godric and Salazar have gone into the village for the evening, and this castle is awfully lonely. Stay with me?"

Helga's heart flutters. Part of her thinks she needs to run now. This is too good to be true, and she's painfully aware of everything that can go wrong.

And yet she doesn't want to leave, not really. All she's ever wanted is for Rowena to love her. Now is her chance, and she doesn't want to give that up.

"I shall call for some cheese and wine," Helga says with a nod.

Rowena leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to Helga's lips. "I can hardly wait."


	11. Boyfriends and Broomsticks (DeanPiers)

_Marauder Map: buying a broom_

 _Around the Board, 4 Privet Drive: canon Muggle_

 _Fantastic Beasts, Thunderbird in Brunei: flying, post-war_

 _Lizzy's Loft: "Speed is key."_

 _Showtime. Anatevka: broom_

 _Ami's Audio, Here There Be Gerblins: "Abraca-fuck-you."_

 _Word Count: 452_

* * *

"Speed is key," Dean explains. "If the other Seeker is faster, you don't have much of a chance."

Piers barely hears his boyfriend. By now, he's had months to come to terms with the fact that magic is real and Dean is part of a strange, surreal world. Still, it's all so bizarre, and he can't seem to wrap his head around it.

"I've lost you, haven't I?" Dean asks, offering him an apologetic, sheepish grin.

"Completely."

Dean gently nudges Piers' shoulder with his head. "I forget sometimes," he says with a laugh. "You sure you aren't a wizard?"

Piers rolls his eyes. "Abraca-fuck-you."

Dean's lips twitch, and he links his arm with Piers', pulling him through the crowded alley. Piers wonders if he'll ever get used to the bizarrely-dressed people. At least Dean doesn't dress like in strange, oddly-colored robes. It's a rare semblance of normalcy, but he'll gladly take it.

Piers barely gets a chance to read the shop sign–Quality Quidditch Supply–before being pulled inside. He's listened to Dean talk about the magical sport plenty of times before, but he still doesn't quite understand. Maybe he never will, but at least he and Dean can bond over a mutual love of West Ham.

"What do you think?" Dean asks, coming to a stop in front of a sleek broomstick.

Piers stares, unsure what to say. He doesn't know much about brooms, except that he hates sweeping. There's bound to be a major difference between the brooms he despises using and the thing he's looking at now, but he doesn't know what that difference could be.

"It's… Well, it has… I'm sure it can really get rid of dust and dirt."

Dean snorts, eyes rolling. "Dust and dirt?" he echoes. "Really, Piers? This is for flying, not cleaning."

Piers shrugs. "Whatever you say," he says.

Dean continues to walk around, and Piers follows him, unable to resist a smile. During the immediate aftermath of the war–which Piers still doesn't understand, but he knows that Dean came back broken and trying to mend–Dean so rarely smiled. He had returned a haunted man, plagued by nightmares that Piers couldn't take away.

Now, that's changed. He can see the happiness and excitement in his boyfriend's grin, and it's enough to make Piers think they're going to be okay.

"Here we are," Dean says, trailing his fingers along the handle. "This is it."

"You're really going to fly that?" Piers asks, both horrified and intrigued.

" _We're_ going to fly it."

Piers feels a fluttering sensation in his stomach. _We_.

The idea of flying is scary, but it's okay. Dean wants him to be part of his world. That's greater than any fear Piers may have.


	12. Strings (HoraceRosmerta)

_Marauder Map: Horace Slughorn, "Let's get breakfast."_

 _Showtime, Tevye's Dream: bargain_

 _Word Count: 325_

* * *

"You look exhausted, my dear," Horace says.

It's obvious. The war has ended only hours before, and he imagines nearly everyone and their mum has ended up in Hogsmeade for a drink. It's hard to imagine how long Rosmerta has been on her feet, trying to keep things running smoothly. Of course, she could easily rely on magic so that things run more efficiently, but Rosmerta has always been too stubborn.

"Let's get breakfast."

The barmaid looks up at him with amusement in her bright eyes. She offers him a smile before preparing a warm, frothy glass of butterbeer and sending it down the bar. "It's nearly noon," she says. "Your usual, Minerva?"

"Have you eaten?" he asks.

"I haven't."

"Have breakfast with me, then," he says.

She slides another drink down before finding a moment of peace. Still smiling, she leans against the bar, meeting his gaze. "You drive a hard bargain, Horace," she chuckles. "But why are you so interested in a meal with me?"

He sighs and shakes his head. Does she not realize how desirable she is? Or has she had to endure countless advances over the years that she doesn't even think anything of it anymore?

"I'm sure you've noticed that I am quite attracted to you, dear Rosmerta," he tells her. "The very least I can do is enjoy a meal with you. There doesn't even have to be any romantic strings attached. It would warm my heart to know that I am able to look after you."

For several moments, she doesn't speak. Her eyes move slowly over him, almost as though she's seeing her for the first time. Finally, she smiles. "Maybe a chance at romance wouldn't hurt," she decides, turning and Summoning another glass. "How about lunch?"

"I'll find us something," he says before making his way through the crowded pub.

It's a small step, but it's a step in right direction. Horace will take it.


	13. Written in the Stars (SiriusMarlene)

_Marauder Map: telescope_

 _Character Appreciation: Marauder Era_

 _Book Club, Kenya: bag of crisps, dancing, "You'll know when I go off on you."_

 _Amber's Attic, The Princess Bride: romance with a happy ending_

 _Emporium, mulled wine: someone with a fiery personality_

 _Piñata, medium_

 _Fantastic Beasts, Dementor in Uruguay: kiss, green_

 _Word Count: 529_

* * *

"Just had to bring your bag of crisps, huh?" Sirius teases, smirking.

Marlene rolls her eyes, plucking a crisp from the bag and popping it in her mouth. For a moment, there's silence as she crunches. "Is that a problem?" she asks, her tone sharp. "You never complain when Remus has his chocolate."

"I'm not complaining! No need to go off on me."

She steps forward, prodding his chest with her finger gently against his chest, her dark green eyes twinkling with amusement. "You'll know when I go off on you," she tells him. "I promise you that."

Sirius pouts for a moment, shaking his head. He loves Marlene's fire. No one else has ever dared to talk to him the way she does, and she has proven again and again to be one of the few people who can match his energy and wit blow for blow. Falling in love with her had been easy.

"How are you struggling with Astronomy?" Marlene asks, setting her bag of crisps aside. "You're a Black. You're named after a constellation. Shouldn't this be like… second nature to you?"

He rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to scowl at the assumption. Hell, maybe that's exactly why he does so poorly. His family has loved stars for so long that failing to learn the names is his own form of rebellion.

Of course, since he's rebelling, he doesn't actually _need_ to learn the constellations. However, Marlene is ridiculously good at making star charts, and it gives him an excuse to spend time with her, away from prying eyes.

He watches as she sets up the telescope, smiling to himself. Marlene is special. There's something about her that makes him feel like a fool, and all he can do is stare.

"I know you're looking at my ass, Black," she calls.

"Sorry."

Marlene turns, smirking. "I wasn't complaining. Now, come on."

…

Sirius doesn't think he'll ever understand Astronomy. At the end of the day, the stars look too similar, and even hours with Marlene naming them doesn't help. Still, he doesn't tell her that.

"No, it isn't Castor," Marlene snorts. "Really? Are you even trying?"

Sirius pulls away from the telescope. "Of course I am!"

She folds her arms over her chest, tapping her foot as her green eyes narrow at him.

"Er…" He offers her a sheepish grin. "Maybe I'm not."

"Git," she teases before pointing at something. "Shooting star. Make a wish."

"Why?" he whispers. "I already have you. What more could I want."

It's a ridiculous line, and he expects her to call him out on it. Instead, she wraps her arms around him, holding him close and placing a kiss on his lips. And in that moment, it doesn't matter that he doesn't know the stars and planets. The universe has aligned for this moment.

"Dance with me," he whispers when she breaks the kiss.

"I thought you wanted to stargaze." But she doesn't protest as he leads her in a slow, graceful dance atop the Astronomy Tower.

Sirius falls a little more in love with her as they waltz underneath the stars whose names he will never know.


	14. Perfect (ParvatiLavender)

_Book club, Carlos: promise, frozen yogurt, apologizing_

 _Marauders Map: Lavender, first date_

 _Word Count: 417_

* * *

"I'm sorry!" Lavender says, skidding to a stop so suddenly that she nearly stumbles over her own her own feet. "I'm so sorry!"

She feels ridiculous. How long has she been looking forward to this day? How long has she spent admiring Parvati from afar, hoping to find the courage to ask her on a date. It had taken nearly dying in the battle for her to take a chance.

And now, like an idiot, she's late. Her cheeks burn as she takes a hand through her honey blonde curls. It's amazing that Parvati is still waiting.

Parvati offers her a bright smile, and takes Lavender's hand. "It's okay," she laughs, and they begin to walk together. "It's only been like ten minutes."

"You aren't mad?"

"I promise I'm not."

It isn't enough to make Lavender relax, but it's a start. Lavender will take it. At least she doesn't feel completely foolish anymore.

"Padma and I found this little shop," Parvati explains, pulling Lavender through the crowded streets of Muggle London. "Nice little frozen yogurt place. Do you like frozen yogurt?"

"I like ice cream." Lavender shrugs. "Is it similar?"

Parvari considers for a moment, tapping a slender finger against her chin as she thinks. "Close enough, I guess."

…

Lavender quickly decides she would much rather have ice cream. Still, the frozen yogurt isn't bad, and the time she gets to spend with Parvati makes everything even better.

"You should have added chocolate chips to yours," Parvati says, dipping her spoon in her cup as they walk through the park. "Try it."

Without a second thought, Lavender opens her mouth, allowing Parvati to feed her the frozen snack. A soft moan escapes Lavender's lips. It really is better like this. "Perfect."

"Yes," Parvati says. "You are."

Lavender feels her cheeks glow with warmth. Ever since the war and Greyback's attack, she's had issues. It's taken so much effort to learn that she can be more than just a pretty face. Still, she has thoughts that creep in, that make her question everything.

But Parvati says she's perfect. Maybe Lavender doesn't believe it. Maybe she never will. Not the words sound so beautiful on the other girl's tongue, and Lavender can't help but melt.

She leans, kissing Parvati gently, cheeks growing even hotter as she pulls away. "Sorry. I don't usually kiss on the first date."

But Parvati only grins. "So that means I'm special."

If only Lavender could tell her exactly how special she really is.


	15. Maybe (LuciusPansy)

_Marauders Map: Sugar Quill_

 _Book Club, Hailey: Pansy, protest, gold_

 _Showtime, If I Were a Rich Man: peacock_

 _word count: 481_

* * *

"Why do you like peacocks so much?" Pansy asks, tucking the Sugar Quill between her lips as she watches the albino birds strut across the yard.

It's amusing in its own way. The peacocks roam the yard as freely as dogs might in other homes. Still, it's bizarre.

"Why do you ask so many questions?" Lucius asks, gently pushing her through the door and into the manor.

Maybe Pansy should know better by now. Lucius doesn't like answering questions. This isn't love, and it will never be anything more than trying to kill the loneliness. After the war, Pansy had been shunned; Lucius, still disgraced despite his pardon, had been treated with little more than contempt. The two of them ended up in each other's orbit. Pansy hadn't protested the older man's sudden attention. Anything is better than the open hostility she's faced since the battle.

But this isn't love. She still watches Lucius remove his gold wedding band and tuck in his pocket. At the end of the day, he still has a wife, a home, a family. Pansy is nothing more than his kindred spirit, his reminder that his isn't totally alone in this life.

"Why do you look so sad all of sudden?" Lucius asks when they reach the guest bedroom–of course their affair always happens here; even someone like Lucius must feel shame.

Pansy swallows dryly and shakes her head as she sets her Sugar Quill on the bedside table. "Now who's asking questions?" she teases, sitting on the bed and watching as Lucius prepares her drink.

"I mean it," he assures her. "I know what you must think of me, Pansy, but I do care about you."

"Really?" She hates how skeptical she sounds and how hurt he looks at her doubt.

Lucius sets the drink aside and moves closer, sitting beside her. He rests his hand gently on top of hers. "Do you think I'm such a monster that I don't care about you?" he asks. "I know our circumstances aren't ideal. I'm a married man, and all. But it isn't by choice."

"It isn't?"

He shakes his head, blond hair whipping against his face. "There hasn't between any love between Narcissa and me in a long time," he says. "We married out of duty and nothing more."

Pansy is quiet as she considers this. Maybe she's been reading the situation all wrong.

"I would never invite just anyone to bed with me," he tells her, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I love you."

 _Love_. The word is terrifying and heavy. Pansy doesn't know if she's ever really heard it before, not when it was meant. But it sounds so beautiful on Lucius' tongue, and she can't help but believe.

His lips find hers, and she melts into the touch.

Maybe it's love. Maybe it isn't. All Pansy knows is that it feels right.


	16. Attention (GilderoyRita)

_Button Bonanza: talent_

 _Marauder Map: Rita Skeeter, a Quidditch match_

 _Word Count: 417_

* * *

Rita doesn't actually want to be here. Though she's certain Quidditch is a lovely sport and the teams–Falmouth? Puddlemere? She can't even remember who's playing, let alone who she's meant to be cheering for–have worked hard for their spots in this match, she loathes sports. There's a reason she opted to avoid becoming a sports journalist. Athletics are boring. She would much rather dazzle her readers with scandal and drama.

Of course, she can't complain too much. If she has to be stuck at this match, at least it's because she's on a date with Gilderoy Lockhart. It's a lot easier to enjoy it, knowing that the handsome, blond celebrity is by her side.

"You know, I played Quidditch at Hogwarts," he tells her.

She knows already. Aside from reading it in his latest book, Rita remembers how handsome he had looked in his Ravenclaw Quidditch robes. But she doesn't tell him; she just nods and looks impressed, silently urging him to tell her more.

It's ridiculous that he can have this effect on her. She is a grown woman, but he makes her feel like a giddy, blushing schoolgirl.

"I had so much talent," he continues, shaking his head. "I could have easily gone on to play professionally."

"Why didn't you?" she asks, the journalist in her coming out. It feels like an exclusive interview, like she can learn things about Gilderoy Lockhart that others could only dream of learning.

"I had to choose a talent to cultivate," he says. "If I became a Quidditch player, what would have become of my natural talent for dueling and defense? Why, all those people I helped might have died without my intervention."

Rita hangs on to his every word. She has heard people accuse Gilderoy of being egotistical, but he is so humble. Without meaning to, she falls a little more for him.

"You're a brave man," she says. "So selfless."

Gilderoy beams at that before turning his attention back to the match at hand. Rita fights back a groan and watches as well, but it doesn't hold her attention. The match seems exciting enough, but nothing could ever excite her the way Gilderoy does. Maybe she'll have an opportunity to hold his attention the way this match holds it now.

In the meantime, she cheers whenever he cheers, and her eyes keep wandering back to him. The way he smiles when his preferred team scores melts her heart.

Maybe Quidditch matches aren't terrible date ideas after all.


	17. More Than Enough (PercyKingsley)

_Marauder Map: Kingsley, snowglobe_

 _Button Bonanza: "Happy birthday."_

 _Lizzy's Loft: redhead_

 _Film Festival: coffee_

 _Word Count: 404_

* * *

Kingsley is half asleep as he pours his first cup of coffee. The robust aroma fills his nostrils, and his mind slowly begins to wake up.

"Happy birthday."

He turns, offering Percy a small grin. "You remembered," he says before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

Maybe he shouldn't be so surprised. His boyfriend always seems to know everything.

Percy fixes himself a glass of orange juice before joining Kingsley at the table. "Any plans for tonight?" he asks.

Kingsley laughs softly. In the year since the war's end, he has damn near forgotten what it even feels like to have a free evening. The first few months, trying to adjust to the aftermath of the final battle and his new role as Minister, had been the worst. Now, though it is still fairly chaotic, things have really slowed down.

"I'll take that to mean you don't have plans," Percy guesses, raking his fingers through his red curls. "That's not good."

Kingsley chuckles and shakes his head. He can't even remember the last time he's done anything for his birthday. It's just another day, and this year shouldn't be any different. "It's not bad either," he points out, happily sipping his coffee.

"You work so hard." Percy sighs and reaches in his pocket, pulling out a snowglobe and setting it in the center of the table. "You deserve more than some lame gift like this."

He's blushing all the way to his ears. Kingsley tries not to laugh at how adorable it is.

"You know," Kingsley says, picking up the snowglobe and shaking it, smiling as the white glitter within swirls within the glass, "I don't need extravagant things. Staying in with you, eating pizza, and drinking a beer sounds like the best way to enjoy my birthday."

"I know, but…" Percy trails off, his blush deepening.

Now Kingsley understands. Percy had been raised in a poor family. Of course he would want to be able to do something nice for Kingsley now that he's old enough to have his own money.

Kingsley sets his coffee aside and climbs to his feet, making his way over to Percy. He kisses his lover's forehead. "You are more than enough for me, Percy," he says. "I love you."

"Are you sure? I feel like you deserve so much more."

Kingsley ruffles his coppery curls. "I'll bring the beer," he says. "You pick up the pizza."


	18. Lucky One (Chaco)

_Marauder Map: coffin, "I can't see a thing."_

 _Buttons Bonanza: CharlieDraco_

 _Piñata, hard_

 _World of Orphans, Dorothy: emerald green_

 _Character Appreciation: fang necklace_

 _Count Your Buttons: incinerate_

 _Word Count: 479_

It's not really him. Just his body.

That's what Draco tells himself when he sees the coffin. Tears blur his vision as he approaches the simple wooden box. Charlie always looked so alive, so free. The man in the coffin is pale and stiff, and he just isn't Charlie.

" _I can't see a thing," Draco grumbles._

 _He doesn't understand how Charlie can navigate so easily through the dark. Draco's movements are awkward, and he stumbles around, his foot catching on rocks and roots and anything else that can get in the way._

 _Charlie turns, his freckled skin pale in the silver glow of the moonlight. "Quit complaining," he teases. "I promise it will be worth it."_

"I know." Bill appears at his side, adjusting the fang necklace around his neck. "It's just so fucking wrong."

Draco nods, unsure how to respond. Charlie's other siblings are still wary of him. Only Bill has been willing to welcome him with open arms. Bill had been close to Charlie; if anyone would understand how it feels to lose him, it would be Bill. Still, it feels awkward. How can he open up to someone who is both family and a stranger.

Bill rests a hand on his shoulder. "You know he loved you," he says.

Again, all he can do is nod mutely.

 _Charlie is right. It is beautiful up here. He can see the dragon sanctuary so perfectly._

" _How did you find this place?" Draco asks._

 _Charlie wraps an arm around him. "My first year here was spent doing a lot of exploring," he answers. "Perfect way to watch the dragons without worrying about being incinerated. What?"_

 _Draco raises his brows, grinning. "You really expect me to believe you brought me here to just look at the view?" he chuckles. "I know you better than that, Weasley."_

" _Think so, Malfoy?"_

"I love him too," Draco says at last, resting his hand on Charlie's before pulling away quickly.

It isn't Charlie. It's too cold, too wrong.

"He didn't have to take a chance on me," Draco continues. "I was just a Malfoy, just another person trying to run from my past. But Charlie… Charlie was so good."

" _You're right," Charlie says, offering him a grin. "And you ruined the moment, so thanks for that."_

 _Before Draco can ask, Charlie reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring. Draco's heart flutters, and his stomach seems to do somersaults._

" _Will you marry me?"_

Draco touches a finger to the dark green emeralds that are nested in the silver band. They should have had an eternity together, but they hadn't even made it to their wedding day. Accidents have become a rare occurrence at the sanctuary, but they are so often fatal.

Charlie Weasley, the kindest man in the whole world, the man with the most beautiful passion for life.

"I was so lucky."


	19. Forever Hoping (RegulusMarlene)

_Marauders Map: antique shop_

 _Fantastic Beasts, mermaid in Oman: pretty, pottery_

 _Book Club, DeVante: Regulus, nosy, doll_

 _Ami's Audio: statue_

 _Word Count: 414_

* * *

"Why do you have to look so sad?" Regulus asks as he and Marlene slip into the little antique shop.

She scowls. It should be obvious. They have to hide away in a bloody Muggle shop just to be together. It isn't fair! "Why do you have to be so nosy?" she counters, trying not to sound like she cares as passes a marble statue.

She shouldn't be angry with him, but it's hard sometimes. As much as they love one another, their love is still forbidden. They have made their choices, and yet they can't seem to stay away from each other. Marlene laughs bitterly. It's just one more reason to hate this war.

"Look," Regulus says, holding up an antique porcelain doll with black curls and bright blue eyes. "She looks a bit like you, except not as pretty."

Marlene rolls her eyes. She hates that he makes it so hard to stay mad at him. With a scowl, she turns away, focusing on elaborately painted pottery as though it's the most interesting thing around.

Regulus sighs and crosses the distance between them and standing at her side. "Come on, Mar," he says, wrapping an arm around her. "You knew it would be like this when we got together."

And that is exactly why she's angry, not just at herself but at the whole world. Why couldn't things change? Love should be enough to make the world better, but it isn't. At the end of the day, he will still take the Dark Mark, and she will faithfully follow Dumbledore. There's no way that the love ends with a happily ever after.

Somehow they still try. They never seem to fit, and they are more clashing than harmony, but she doesn't care. Marlene has long since given up on that.

"I'm allowed to be mad," she says with a huff, folding her arms over her chest to emphasize her annoyance.

Regulus grins, and it's enough to make her melt. "Just don't stay mad forever," he says. "I'll buy you the doll."

She shudders, laughing as she shakes her head. "No dolls."

Just like that, the tension between them dies. They fall back into their routine of being two people in love and browsing through, looking at all the antiques.

It's such an impossible dream, but Marlene refuses to give up. Maybe one day they'll find their happy ending, and they'll be here, shopping for furniture for their home.

She'll never stop hoping.


	20. Clause (PercyOliverSeamus)

_For Lo_

 _Advent: Santa!au_

 _Winter bucket list: romance_

 _Character Appreciation: cup of tea_

 _Disney, Stories: "Everyone needs someone."_

 _Crafty Corner, Roses: "Thank you very much."_

 _Book Club, Abanazer: chocolate chip cookie, trust, key_

 _Showtime, You Okay Honey: love at first sight_

 _Count Your Buttons: hot chocolate_

 _Emporium: chaos_

 _Word Count: 644_

* * *

They probably don't even notice Seamus there. Elves are quite good at not being noticed when they wish.

He isn't surprised to find the lawyer back again. Percy had been here with the last Santa, though Seamus doesn't remember much about that particular meeting, only that Mrs. Claus had joined them in the North Pole shortly after.

Seamus watches as Oliver pours the lawyer a cup of tea, then prepares himself a hot chocolate. "Cookie?" Oliver asks, pushing the plate of chocolate chip cookies forward.

Percy accepts one, smiling before biting into it. "Thank you very much."

Oliver chuckles, and it's the jolliest, most beautiful sound Seamus has ever heard. It's hard not to swoon, but he manages to stay perfectly still. Wiggleworms make poor eavesdroppers, and he has always prided himself on his ability to hear everything.

He knows he shouldn't spy. It's a clear violation of Oliver's trust. But he can't help. There's something about the lawyer that makes him want to get closer. He's never believed in love at first sight until; he hadn't even fallen immediately for Oliver.

"Never cared much for cookies until I put on the suit," Oliver says, gesturing to the red-and-white velvet suit. "Now, what brings you to the North Pole today?"

"Bit of chaos at the legal department," Percy explains, placing his briefcase on the table and opening it. "I'm not sure that you were properly brought up to speed on your role as Santa."

"What's there to get? I run a workshop. Once a year, the reindeer and I fly around the world and deliver presents. Pretty easy."

Percy clears his throat, blushing so deeply that his ears turn red. Seamus thinks it's cute.

"Well," Percy says, pulling out a piece of paper, "there is another clause… There must be… Ahem… It is vital that you get married."

Seamus beams at that. Married? He had never considered his relationship with Oliver going that far, but he doesn't mind.

"This won't work," Oliver says after staring at the paper for several seconds. "It says I have to marry a human."

Percy spits his tea, ruining the perfectly good plate of cookies. "E-excuse me?" He wipes his mouth. "What… what exactly are you attracted to?"

Seamus can't resist anymore. He leaps from his hiding spot, arms outstretched and a broad grin on his face. "Me!"

"That… is not inaccurate," Oliver admits. "What are you doing in here, Shay?"

Seamus cough, adjusting his pointed green hat. "Er… Well…" He drops his hands to his sides and pulls out the key that allows him to get anywhere in the workshop. "I…"

"Uh huh," Oliver says before he can explain. "Why am I not surprised."

Seamus turns to Percy who has been silent this whole time. The lawyer sits there, staring with wide, confused eyes. Silence falls over them, and Seamus squirms, hating the sudden tension.

"I'm sorry," Percy says at last. "The Santa magic will fade if you don't fulfill the contract exactly. The elf isn't…"

"He's cute," Seamus says, gesturing toward Percy. "You could marry him. I like him."

"That won't work," Oliver says.

Seamus snorts. Humans are so adorably oblivious sometimes. He knows he isn't the only one who has become instantly smitten. "Oh, please. You fancy one another." He points at Oliver. "You fancy me. Everyone wins."

He doesn't know why it seems to take them an eternity to decide. The answer is so obvious, but they insist on complicating things, as humans so often do.

"I wouldn't be opposed," Percy decides. "Everyone needs someone, after all."

Oliver nods. "You'll take us both? Because I'm not abandoning Seamus just to meet a contract's requirements."

"Of course."

Seamus is practically giddy when he pulls both men in for a hug. It's just another reminder that winter brings a beautiful sort of magic, and miracles can happen.


	21. Safe and Sound (Wolfstar)

_Holmes: Sirius Black_

 _Bucket List: safe_

 _Book Club, Silas: Sirius, responsibility, mystery_

 _Showtime, Your Eyes: hurt/comfort_

 _Arcade, Tobias: Wolfstar, "Does it look like I'm joking?", screaming_

 _Basement, Liza: fluffy Wolfstar_

 _Christmas Raffle: Sirius Black_

 _Paper Snowflakes: slash_

 _Snowball Fight: hurt/comfort_

 _Word Count: 412_

* * *

The screaming wakes him. By now, Sirius should probably be used to it. Remus has been haunted by nightmares as long as he can remember. Only now does he understand that they aren't run-of-the-mill nightmares. Now he knows the truth about Remus' condition, about Greyback. The mystery is gone, and he knows that the nightmares are memories.

He suspects James and Peter have cast spells to soundproof their beds because they don't wake. Remus probably prefers it that. Sirius knows that he hates feeling like he's anyone's responsibility.

But Sirius doesn't care. He loves Remus and will do anything he can to protect him.

Sirius climbs out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eye. In only a few steps, he's at Remus' bed. Remus sits up, rigid and breathing heavily. In the moonlight that filters through the window, Sirius can see the beads of cold sweat sprinkled across his lover's forehead.

"Budge over."

"I'm fine, Sirius." He sounds anything but fine. Remus is out of breath, and his voice breaks.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" Sirius asks. "Budge over."

Remus hesitates but obeys. Sirius climbs into bed beside him, pulling him close. "It's okay, Moony," he says, stroking his lover's tawny hair. "You're safe. You know that, right?"

Remus breaks. His body trembles, and tears begin to flow, soaking Sirius' shirt. All Sirius can do is hold him tighter, soothing him with gentle shushing noises.

"I hate this," Remus whispers. "I just want to be okay again."

Sirius swallows dryly. He doesn't know how to put Remus back together, or if it's even possible. He wants to believe it is. Sirius loves Remus more than anything in this world, and he only wants the best for him.

"I don't know how to make things better," Sirius whispers. "I wish I could promise to take away the pain, but I can't. I can promise you this, though: as long as I'm alive, you won't have to go through this alone. I'll hold you after every nightmare. I will love and take care of you."

"That's all I need to know."

They lay back together. Remus snuggles close, resting his head on Sirius' shoulder. Sirius doesn't sleep. He stays up, ready for the screaming to begin again, ready to hold Remus and chase away the nightmares.

"I love you," he whispers to the boy sleeping beside him. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I will keep you safe."


	22. Simplicity By the Fire (Perciver)

_Gobstones, black stone (anniversary): Perciver, hot chocolate, "You used to be nicer."_

 _Snow Globe, Hufflepuff common room; cozy_

 _Nice List: cuddling by the fire_

 _Gingerbread, icing: write about a redhead_

 _Showtime, I'll Cover You: romance_

 _Count Your Buttons: excited_

 _Film Festival: hot chocolate with marshmallows_

 _Holmes: "You're giving me a headache."_

 _Word Count: 327_

* * *

Oliver smiles as he moves a little closer to Percy. Some people need grand gestures to celebrate their anniversaries. Not Oliver. He is perfectly happy to cuddle together on the couch, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace coupled with the warmth of hot chocolate. Nothing could make him happier than he is in this moment, nice and cozy and in love.

"Seriously," Oliver says, reaching up and affectionately ruffling his lover's red curls. "How can you deny that marshmallows in hot chocolate are superior to plain, boring, ordinary hot chocolate?"

Percy snorts. Oliver has been rambling out this for ten minutes now, and Percy is probably ready for him to shut up. But it's blasphemous! Each chocolatey, marshmallowy sip of cocoa makes him sad that Percy refuses to enjoy himself properly.

"You're giving me a headache," Percy says calmly, adjusting glasses before taking a sip of his drink. "I thought this was supposed to be a quiet night in."

Oliver sniffs. "You used to be nicer."

Percy chuckles and leans in, pressing a quick kiss to Oliver's temple. "No," he says, snuggling closer. "You just had lower expectations."

Oliver grins and shakes his head. It's strange to think of how much they've grown. He can still remember meeting a scrawny, nervous boy after their Sorting. Nine years later, they took a chance. Now, it's been three years since that day, and they are still learning, still loving.

"What are you so happy about?" Percy asks, gently nudging Oliver with his elbow.

"Just that I'm excited to do this with you every year for the rest of my life."

Once, Oliver thought love meant making a show of it. Once, an anniversary with him would have meant going out, being so damn public and exposed. Now he knows better, and he craves simplicity more than anything else in this world. Well, simplicity with Percy by his side.

"Happy anniversary," Oliver whispers, watching the flames dance within the fireplace.


	23. Live a Little (HarryChoCedric)

_Advent: HarryChoCedric_

 _Showtime, You'll See: persuasive_

 _Paper Snowflakes: triad_

 _Present Wrapping: "Oops?"_

 _Decorating: Cedric_

 _Bucket List: prefects bath_

 _Word Count: 336_

* * *

Cedric can't believe he's actually let Harry and Cho talk him into this. It feels so wrong, like he's violating his role as prefect by doing this.

He watches as Harry climbs into the pool-like tub. Scented steam rises from the warm, bubbly water, and Harry grins at him. "Coming?"

Cedric swallows dryly. He shouldn't be here. Neither Harry nor Cho are supposed to be in the prefects' bath, and he can't help worrying might happen if someone were to discover what he's done.

"Why so tense?" Cho asks, letting her towel drop. She offers him a cheeky grin. "Oops?"

Merlin! Cedric loves and hates them so much right now. He looks up, cheeks flooding with heat.

Cho's soft touch draws him back to the present. He looks down again, taking a deep breath. She and Harry are both so beautiful. "We shouldn't be doing this," he mutters.

"What are we doing?" Harry asks, splashing them. "We all happen to be taking a bath together."

"Yes. But two of us shouldn't even be in here," Cedric reminds him. "Never mind that it's after curfew."

"Live a little," Harry says.

It isn't fair that they're both so persuasive. How can he resist his lovers when they make him want to break every rule in the book. Cedric sighs heavily before pulling his shirt off. "Fine," he grumbles, removing his trousers next.

The water feels good against his skin, and the bubbles seem to caress him. Cedric smiles. He's never been the type to break the rules, and the feeling is so strange now, but he realizes he enjoys it. A broad grin tugs at his lips.

Harry swims over and nudges him. "What are you smiling about?" he asks.

Cedric wraps an arm around Harry before pulling Cho close with his other arm. He holds them, and his grin only grows. "Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you both in my life."

It's strange and unconventional, but he couldn't imagine it any other way.


	24. Choices and Changes (KingsleyAntonin)

_Advent: KingsleyAntonin_

 _Character Appreciation: Death Eaters_

 _Disney, Lumiere: someone on the light side_

 _Book Club, Jack: knife, confused, "I was looking for someone."_

 _Showtime, Voice Mail 1: other fish in the sea_

 _Amber's Attic, Tupac: Write about the Order of the Phoenix_

 _Lyric Alley: But it still hurts_

 _Snowflakes: waiting for someone_

 _Present Wrapping: green_

 _Snow Globe, St. Mungo's: coughing_

 _Bucket List: trying to change something_

 _Word Count: 701_

* * *

Kingsley vaguely recognizes the boy with dark green eyes when he stumbles into his compartment. He's a Slytherin, confirmed by the green-and-silver tie around his neck. Dolohov, he thinks.

"Sorry," the other boy mutters, brushing his hand through his dark hair. "I was looking for someone."

Kingsley shrugs. "I'm someone."

His father has always sworn Kingsley was a Hufflepuff in the making, with his inability to ever meet a stranger. That hasn't changed, even going into his fifth year.

Dolohov smiles. "Can I sit with you, then?"

Kingsley offers him a bright smile and gestures at the seat across from him. "Be my guest."

…

They aren't made for friendship. He and Antonin come from two different worlds, and they hold such drastically different views.

And yet, against all odds, they grow stronger.

…

"Maybe you should put the same amount of energy into Potions as you do into being nice," Antonin teases as Kingsley places the cake in front of him.

"Watch it," Kingsley laughs, playfully pointing the butter knife at him. "I… am not terrible at Potions."

Antonin smirks. He doesn't have to say anything; the silent taunt seems to hang in the air between them.

Kingsley coughs, desperate for some noise to break the silence. "Seventeen is an important age," he says at last as he cuts the first slice. "Any special plans?"

Instead an answer, Antonin leans in, pulling Kingsley close and pressing a kiss to his lips. Kingsley's eyes widen in confusion, but he doesn't pull away. This is strange and unusual, and he hadn't expected it, but it still feels so right.

"Been wanting to do that for a while," Antonin admits. "Maybe seventeen made me bolder."

…

He loves Antonin, and it hurts so much when things fall apart, when he receives word that his first love has joined the Death Eaters. Kingsley tries not to take it personally, but it's hard.

He could have saved Antonin. He could have lead him down the right path.

…

Kingsley checks the pocket watch. Only a minute has passed since he's last obsessively stared at it, as though his anxiety can somehow make time go faster.

"I hear you went and became an Auror."

Kingsley looks up, and his heart melts a little bit. Despite everything, he can't help but give Antonin a bright grin. It fades the moment he opens his mouth to speak. "And I hear you joined _him._ "

Antonin's lips quirk. He closes the distance between them and takes Kingsley's hand, his thumb brushing over his knuckles. "I did what I had to. Join me, Kingsley. We could use someone like you."

It isn't even a little bit tempting. As much as he loves Antonin, he could never turn his back on morality.

Antonin must see the answer in his eyes. He squeezes Kingsley's hand. "Change your mind. Please."

Kingsley shakes his head. "I'm sorry."

And he means it. In a perfect world, he and Antonin could be happy together. They could have a future together that doesn't involve sar and painful choices.

Antonin nods. "We'll be enemies, you know."

It hurts. His chest begins to ache, and his throat is suddenly so tight. "I know."

…

He tells himself that there are other fish in the sea, that he has plenty of chances to find someone else.

He doesn't want to.

…

"Alastor," Kingsley says politely, nodding at his old mentor.

Mad-Eye returns the nod, but it's hurried and seems more habit than sincere. "You're a good Auror, Shacklebolt."

Kingsley smiles at that. He doesn't know where this is coming from, but there's a certain flicker of accomplishment hearing it from the great Mad-Eye Moody.

"How would you like to really make a difference?"

…

The Order of the Phoenix gives him a sense of purpose, and it's easy to fight for what is right.

But it all it takes is one brief moment, one flicker of a second battle. He sees dark green eyes and hears that familiar voice, and something in him breaks.

He will always love Antonin. Maybe that will never change.

But he knows he can never act on it again. War has made enemies out of lovers.


	25. Carry Me (Fremione)

_For Amanda, who requested Fremione, first kiss._

 _Showtime, Finale: carrying someone up the stairs_

 _Snow Globe, Ravenclaw Common Room: quilt_

 _Present Wrapping: kissing_

 _Snowflakes: bed_

 _Word Count: 536_

* * *

"I'm fine!" Hermione groans as Fred carries her up the stairs. She squeezes her eyes closed, grateful no one is around to witness the indignity of the situation. "Please just put me down."

"Fine?" Fred echoes with a snort. "You've broken your bloody ankle, Hermione. That isn't what I would call _fine_."

He's right, of course. It hurts, and even the smallest movement sends a fresh jolt of pain up her leg. All she had wanted to do was help with the joke shop while George is in bed with the flu! Somehow, her good deed has lead to a broken bone and horribly wounded pride.

Fred moves with surprising ease, taking care to shift her as gently as possible. Hermione can't help but be surprised. The twins have always been pure chaos; the thought that they could so soft is baffling.

He opens the door and carries Hermione inside, kicking the door closed behind them. "Down you go," he says, helping her onto the bed. "Now, let's have a look at it."

Again, he touches her with such care and concern, muttering a soft apology when Hermione sucks in a pained breath.

"I'm fine," she assures him. "It's okay."

"Definitely broken," Fred says. "It's an easy enough fix."

Hermione braces herself. She grips Fred's quilt, taking deep breath after deep breath.

"Trust me," he says, laughing. "George and I have been healing each other's injuries for the longest. If Mum knew about half the crazy accidents we've had…"

She _does_ trust him. Fred and George may be the embodiment of chaos, but she has seen the things they can do. They can manage to harness advanced magic for the sake of pranks. Despite everything, she knows she's in good hands.

Fred mutters the spell, and Hermione feels her bones carefully shift until they click into place again. She offers him a smile. "Thank you."

Fred grins. A pale blush stains his cheeks. "You don't have to thank me," he tells her. "Though, truth be told, I always imagined carrying a beautiful girl to my bedroom under much more pleasant circumstances."

It's her turn to blush. Hermione swallows dryly, playing that sentence back in her head again and again. She's never been called beautiful. Smart, loyal, compassionate, but never beautiful. It's such a silly thing, and she's always strived to be so much more. Still, hearing it now makes her stomach flutter.

Fred leans in. He seems just as nervous, just as anxious as she is. His usual confidence and playfulness seem to fade. "Can I kiss you?"

She nods, her words seeming to fail her. Their lips meet, and she smiles into the kiss. Hermione has been kissed before, but none have ever felt as perfect as this one does now.

They pull away, and Fred grins at her. His blush has darkened, but he looks quite pleased with himself. "Just so you know," he says, "this doesn't mean you have to go around, breaking your bones whenever you want to kiss me. You can just ask."

Hermione laughs and shakes her head. "So, I can make a habit out of kissing you?"

Fred pulls her closer, kissing her again. "Does that answer your question?"


	26. Resolution (DeanPiers)

_For Lo_

 _Word Count: 707_

* * *

It's embarrassing, really. Piers is attending university only three cities away, and Dean is already hopelessly lost. He doesn't want to admit it, but he doesn't have a choice. It's snowy and freezing, and all he has is a bicycle, which offers little protection against the cold wind. If he doesn't bite the bullet and call Piers, he'll probably freeze to death.

With little choice, he steers into the parking lot of the petrol station and parks his bike near a payphone. With a sigh, he hops off the bike. "So much for surprising Piers," he mutters, adjusting his scarf and walking toward the payphone. He puts the coins in.

"Hello?"

"Piers!" Dean says, laughing. It's all so ridiculous, and now he's fully aware of how silly the whole situation is. "Funny story…"

His boyfriend listens as he recounts his story. Dean doesn't even finish when Piers starts laughing. "You can't be serious about this," he says with a snort. "Really?"

"I've never been here before," Dean grumbles.

"A bicycle, Dean? Couldn't have at least gotten a carriage?"

In retrospect, that might have been a better idea, but there's nothing Dean can do about it now. At the time, he had been so sure that a bicycle would be fine.

"What are you even doing here?"

"It's New Year's Eve," Dean says. "I wanted to celebrate it with you."

"God, you're mushy," Piers says, and Dean can hear the grin in his voice. "Which petrol station are you at? I'll be there in a bit."

…

Piers helps him get the forest green bicycle in the back of his car before turning and grinning at him. "You're sweet," he says, his pale cheeks flushing a soft pink. "You didn't have to come all this way."

Dean grins and gets in the passenger seat. "I know," he says, "but I wanted to."

Things have been difficult between them. Now that Piers is busy with university and Dean travels the world with his illustrator job, their schedules rarely match up. They've found a way to make it work, of course, but things aren't the same anymore. Dean misses the way it used to be, and he will do everything he can to get that back.

"What are you thinking about?" Piers asks.

Dean keeps his dark eyes fixed upon the passenger side mirror. He smooths out the creases in his grey jacket. "You," he admits. "Us."

"Should I be worried?"

Dean chuckles and looks at Piers. "Nah," he says. "I think we're fine."

…

"It isn't much," Piers says as he leads Dean into his bedroom. "But my flatmate is pretty quiet, and it's peaceful."

"I like it."

It's cozy, and Dean can't help thinking about the Gryffindor dormitory. He wonders if Piers' flatmate is nice, if Piers is happy.

"Make yourself at home," Piers says. "I'll get some tea going."

Tea. Dean laughs to himself. Not many people have tea as their drink of choice during New Year's Eve, but he understands. Before he had moved next door to Piers, Piers had been an entirely different person. Dean can't imagine it, but Piers has told him stories about sneaking out, getting drunk, doing drugs. He's really turned over a new leaf now.

"Milk, no sugar," Piers says, appearing through the door with a silver tea tray.

"You know me too well."

…

"Five… Four… Three… Two… One… Happy New Year!"

Dean pulls Piers close, kissing him. He's always wanted a New Years kiss, and he's so glad that Piers gets to be his first.

"Where did the time go?" Piers murmurs, baby blue eyes twinkling when he pulls away. "Seems like only yesterday we were sixteen, and you were my new neighbor."

Dean doesn't understand how time could move so fast. So much has happened since that day, three years ago, and yet it feels like things have only just begun.

"Got a resolution for the new year?" Piers asks.

"I want to love you every day and every night."

Piers laughs and reaches out, affectionately caressing Dean's cheek. "So cheesy," he teases.

"I mean it. From here on out, I will make more time for you. I missed you."

Piers kisses him gently. "I missed you too."

* * *

 _Written For_

 _Around the World, ticket: going to a new city_

 _Cheese Board, Provolone: Piers Polkiss_

 _Bath Bomb, orris oil: Dean Thomas_

 _Appreciation: kissing someone on NYE_

 _Book Club, Chikako: pale, tea, mirror_

 _Showtime, Freeze Your Brain: petrol station_

 _Arcade, Lex Luthor: grey_

 _Bex's Basement: "I want to love you every day and every night."_

 _Days, NYE: kissing someone at midnight on NYE_

 _Winter: "Happy New Year!"_

 _Color: baby blue_

 _Birthstone, aquamarine: "Where did the time go?"_

 _Flowers, holly: scarf_

 _Elemental, pisces: DeanPiers_

 _Slytherin, Christmas Cake: fluff_

 _House: forest green_

 _Star Chart, Quadrantids Meteor Shower: "You can't be serious about this."_

 _Scavenger Hunt: Write a fic for a Hufflepuff_

 _1000 Prompts: Dean Thomas_

 _365: bedroom_


	27. No More Secrets (TheoPansy)

_Around the World, fabric dolls: pregnancy_

 _Bath Bomb, fennel oil and coconut cream: Theo and Pansy_

 _Cheese Board, breadsticks: warmth_

 _365: bland_

 _Scavenger Hunt: fanon pairing_

 _1000 prompts: pregnancy_

 _Book Club, Momo: peach, brown, cat_

 _Amber's Attic, Zatanna: write about someone hiding something/one_

 _Liza's Loves: Write about a Slytherin_

 _Word Count: 455_

* * *

She had hoped a bland breakfast would be okay, but her stomach twists, and she jumps to her feet.

"Pansy?"

She doesn't acknowledge her boyfriend. She rushes, nearly tripping over the brown-and-white spotted cat. For once in her life, Pansy doesn't care about being the epitome of perfection. She runs to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her and kneeling in front of the toilet.

Theo will understand. He's always been so kind and wonderful. They've been best friends since childhood, and lovers for the past three years. She knows him well enough. Theo won't hesitate; he'll treat her with warmth and love.

Still, she's hidden this for so long, and she can't bring herself to tell him. She knows she can't keep it a secret forever, but she holds onto it for now. When the time comes, she will tell him. Until then, she needs to figure things out herself.

…

Theo is gone when she comes out. She doesn't know if she should be worried or relieved. It isn't like him to leave without saying goodbye.

Frowning, she sits in her favorite chair by the fireplace, basking in the fire's warmth.

There's nothing to worry about. Theo will be back.

Still, she can't help it. Her mind balances dangerously on the edge of panic.

Her cat hops in her lap, and Pansy absently strokes her fur. "I'm being silly, aren't I?" she asks.

The cat just purrs and rubs her head against Pansy's stomach.

…

Theo hands her a peach. Pansy stares at it curiously. As much as she loves peaches, they're out of season. "What's this?"

"When my mother was pregnant with me, peaches were the only thing she could keep down," he answers.

A sudden rush of cold grips her body. Pansy swallows dryly. Can she deny it? Is there any point in hiding it anymore? "How long have you known?"

"Suspected for about a week or so," he answers. "You should have told me."

Pansy's cheeks heat with color. "I know."

Theo closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around her. Pansy snuggles closer, resting her head against his chest. "I support whatever you choose," he says. "Don't ever feel like you have to hide anything from me, Pansy."

Pansy takes a step back and reaches up, pushing her hand through her boyfriend's sandy-blond hair. "I want to keep it," she says, voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be a family."

Theo presses a chaste kiss to her lips. "Then that's what we'll do."

She's spent so much time panicking and worrying, and now it feels like a weight has been lifted. She has Theo; they are having a baby. Everything is going to be fine.


	28. Morning Promises (NevilleHannah)

_1000 Prompts: NevilleHannah_

 _365 Prompts: disagree_

 _Cheese Board, almonds: "We need a puppy."_

 _Around the World, coffee: energized_

 _Book Club, Kosuke: Neville, "Don't apologize, you idiot.", nervous_

 _Showtime, Dead Girl Walking: "Sorry, but I really had to wake you."_

 _Liza's Loves: Write about something pure and innocent_

 _Word Count: 352_

* * *

Hannah groans, a million curse words on her tongue as she opens her eyes. Really, her husband is lucky he's so adorable. If anyone else had decided to wake her up so early after a night shift, they might have discovered that Hufflepuffs are more than just sweet little angels.

"Sorry, but I really had to wake you."

She laughs and rolls her eyes, grudgingly sitting up. It baffles her that Neville seems to be able to wake up and feel completely energized. She's never been like that. "Don't apologize, you idiot," she says affectionately as she rubs sleep from her eyes. "It's obviously important."

Neville hesitates. Hannah moves closer, resting her head against his shoulder. He's always been such a nervous boy, but he had outgrown it with age; now, she sees the remnants of that clumsy, frightened eleven-year-old in him.

"Neville?" She frowns. "Something wrong?"

"We need a puppy."

Hannah waits for him to get to his actual point, but he leaves it at that. She pulls away, studying him in confusion. Surely that isn't why he's decided to wake her! But, judging by how awkward and nervous he seems now, she guesses it is. A laugh bubbles from her lips, and she shakes her head. "A puppy?" She reaches out and ruffles his dark hair, smiling to herself. "That's what this is about? A _puppy_?"

Neville shrugs. "Figured you'd disagree," he says. "Thought I would ask."

Hannah knows why he's doing this. Trevor passed away a week before. Though Hannah could never understand her husband's camaraderie with the toad, Trevor always seemed to make Neville happy. Losing him had been devastating.

She pulls Neville into a hug, snuggling him close. Hannah doesn't know if getting a new pet will help Neville heal or not, but she's willing to try. All she wants is to see her husband happy.

"I think a puppy would be great," she tells him before falling back and collapsing against her pillow. "But first, we sleep until noon."

With a chuckle, Neville lays beside her and wraps his arms around her. "Sounds good to me."


	29. Beginnings (SiriusDorcas)

_Word Count: 356_

* * *

It shouldn't be so nerve wracking. Sirius knows how charming he is. He might pretend not to notice the way others stare at him and admire him. He could have damn near any person in this castle if he wanted them.

But he doesn't. The only person he wants is sitting in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, and he has to give himself a quick motiva speech.

Dorcas is lovely. Even if she rejects him, she'll be good and kind to him because that's just the way she is. Why would anyone be afraid to approach her?

Sirius almost laughs. It doesn't matter that he and his friends always find some dangerous and ridiculous adventure. The thought of actually admitting his feelings is the only thing that makes him afraid.

"Now or never," he mutters.

And it's too true for comfort. In a few months, Hogwarts will be a thing of the past. They will be out in the real world, and the real world has a war that seems to grow worse every day, and he plans to fight. He shouldn't wait.

He takes a deep breath and makes his way closer. Dorcas looks up, and she is beautiful in the fire's glow. "Cider?" she asks, lifting her glass. "Has a bit of cinnamon in it."

"No, thank you," Sirius says, sitting beside her. "I did want to tell you something."

Dorcas sips her cider, smiling happily. Her cheeks glow a beautiful pink. Sirius doesn't think he's ever seen anything more beautiful.

"I love you," he says. "Always have."

She sets her glass aside, smiling brightly and adjusting her Gryffindor scarf. It's one of the greatest comforts. Sirius had been worried he would get his heart broken tonight, but, instead, he has made her smile.

"I've always had a bit of a crush on you," she admits.

And it goes from there. They sit by the fireplace, cuddling together as they talk about anything and everything. Sirius knows that this is the chance at a beautiful new beginning, and it's enough to make him forget how dark the world is getting.


	30. Easy (KingsleyRosmerta)

_Word Count: 342_

* * *

"Come to drown your sorrows, Minister?" Rosmerta asks, her bright blue eyes twinkling as she grins at him.

Kingsley wonders if he'll ever get used to that title. It's been well over a month since the final battle, and he's still running things and working so hard for change. His only comfort seems to be that Rosmerta loves him enough to keep the pub open exclusively for him.

"I'm not really the drowning type," he says. It's tempting sometimes, but he never has more than a drink or two. He likes to keep his wits about him.

Rosmerta winks at him before retrieving a glass and a bottle of firewhiskey. She prepares him a drink and sits across from him. "Long day?"

"You look beautiful."

She rolls her eyes. "Liar," she accuses, though the smile playing at her lips softens the blow of the word. "Should have known you were here to seduce me."

Kingsley snorts. He's always loved how easy things are between them. It's easy to remember why he fell in love with her. "Oh, am I seducing you now?" he chuckles. "I didn't realize."

"Doesn't take much for you to seduce me." She leans forward and rests her hand on his. "Really, though. How are you?"

He sighs. Things are getting better, slowly but surely. The war's marks will never fade completely, but he's seen the way the wizarding community is healing. It's only a matter of time before they can all breathe again without feeling the weight of the war. Still, it's exhausting. Maybe it's getting easier, but that isn't enough.

"Do I have to talk?" he asks before downing the shot of firewhiskey in one quick gulp.

Rosmerta considers a moment. She shakes her head. "Whatever you need," she assures him. "You know I want you to be okay, and I'll help you any way I can."

"Just love me," he says quietly. "That's all I ask."

She moves closer, leaning over the bar as far as she can and kissing him gently. "That's easy to do."


	31. Get Through This (SeamusLavender)

_Word Count: 348_

* * *

"Got you something," Seamus says, approaching Lavender's bed.

He hates St. Mungo's. Though he knows the Healers are doing everything in their power to help the patients, it still just feels like something out of a nightmare. Being surrounded by so much pain and suffering drains him.

But he will put that aside for Lavender. She is still recovering from Greyback's attack during the battle. Her skin is twisted by scars and still-healing, jagged wounds. He still remembers how hopeless the situation had been, how afraid he was of losing the girl he loves. Staying by her side now is the easiest thing in the world.

Lavender smiles, wincing slightly at the brief quirk of her lips as she notices the chocolate in his hands. "You're my favorite."

Seamus grins and sits at the foot of the bed, dropping the small pile of sweets between them. "What a coincidence," he says, plucking a Chocolate Frog from the pile. "You're my favorite too."

Her brows raise. "I thought the sweets were for me," she teases, grabbing a chocolate.

He isn't fooled. He knows her better than most people, and he can see how forced the lightness is. It's enough to break his heart.

"How are you doing, Lav?"

"I'm…" She trails off and slumps forward with a heavy sigh. "Broken, damaged… Merlin, I don't know if I'm going to make it through this, if I'm honest."

Seamus takes her hand and gives it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. It has been nearly a week since the battle, and they're all still trying to heal, trying to figure out how to carry on with their lives. Lavender has lost so much; Seamus can't imagine what she's going through now.

Still, it doesn't matter. She means the world to him, and he will do whatever it takes to make her feel okay again.

"You've got this," he tells her.

Lavender laughs, the sound dry and without humor. "What makes you so sure?"

He leans in and presses a quick kiss to her forehead. "Because I'm going make sure you get through this."


	32. Misery Loves Company (BellatrixAlice)

_Word Count: 454_

* * *

" _Is something the matter?" Alice asks, brushing her fingers through Bellatrix's dark curls._

 _Bellatrix closes her eyes. She lives for these little moments with her lover, but her heart is breaking within her chest. No matter what she feels for Alice, she knows she can't keep this up. She is still a Black, still a woman, and she will follow her family's traditions. She will have to give Alice up and find a husband, because girls aren't supposed to fall in love with girls._

 _But she doesn't want to think about that now. In this moment, she wants nothing more than to savor these stolen kisses and sweet whispers with the girl she loves. "I'm fine."_

She's fine, absolutely fine. At least that's what Bellatrix tells Rodolphus when he implies she's more ill-tempered than usual over breakfast.

The truth is that she's hurting more than she'll ever admit. Alice's face peers up at her from the pages of the _Daily Prophet._ Frank Longbottom stands beside her, smiling and holding her close.

It isn't fair. Bellatrix still remembers when she was the only one who could touch Alice like that. What gives this filthy man the right?

In the back of her head, Bellatrix knows she shouldn't feel jealous. She had made her choice to follow tradition rather than her heart. That doesn't make this hurt any less.

" _You don't look fine," Alice says, frowning and leaning in closer. "What is it?"_

 _Bellatrix hates how irresistible her girlfriend is. Maybe her head wouldn't feel so frenzied if she didn't feel such a strong pull toward the other girl. "It's nothing," she mutters. "You worry too much."_

 _Alice laughs softly. "How can I not worry?" she asks, kissing Bellatrix's cheek. "You're quiet and sullen, and I just want you to be okay."_

 _Bellatrix almost tells her the truth. She's spent so long thinking about the future, trying to find a way around everything, but she's failed. She tucks her concerns and fears away. Tonight is not the night for a confrontation._

" _I'll figure it out," Bellatrix assures her, wrapping her arms around Alice and holding her tightly. "I promise."_

She couldn't keep her promise, and now she's paying for it. Alice is getting married, and all Bellatrix can do is watch from afar.

If only she had been braver. Perhaps she and Alice would have never had to part ways. Maybe they could have actually found a way to work out.

Rodolphus takes the newspaper from her and scoffs. "Her again? Bloody obsessed, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

She's miserable now. Though she wants to wish Alice the very best, instead she hopes she's just as miserable as Bellatrix is.

It's only fair.


	33. Convinced (RonTheo)

_Word Count: 480_

* * *

In the back of his mind, Ron is almost certain this is a trick. He's never received a secret admirer letter, and he doesn't know anyone else who has. It seems highly unlikely that this could be legitimate. He should just throw the letter away; given his luck, Fred and George will probably be waiting for him in the pumpkin patch, ready to laugh at him for being stupid enough to think anyone could ever fancy him.

"Coming, Ron?" Harry asks.

Ron offers him a small smile and shakes his head. "Nah. I've got…" He clears his throat and rubs his palm over the back of his neck, cheeks burning. No excuses come. "I've got some stuff to do."

He likes that his best mate isn't nosey. Harry just nods and tell Ron to catch up with him and Hermione later. Ron watches as Harry walks off. He wonders if he should have told Harry the truth. Probably not. When this is over, he's sure that he won't want many people to know about the inevitable humiliation.

…

The twins aren't waiting for him in the pumpkin patch. Instead, Theodore Nott leans against a particularly large pumpkin and picks at his fingernails. "My word, you may be cute," Theodore says with a smirk, lifting his gaze when Ron approaches, "but your punctuality leaves much to be desired."

Ron raises his brows, staring in confusion. "What…?"

"I'm assuming you received my letter," Theodore says. He chuckles. "Otherwise this is one hell of a coincidence."

Ron shakes his head. This is even worse than his brothers. A bloody Slytherin is having a go at him… "You are this close to getting smacked," he mutters.

The other boy approaches, and Ron instinctively reaches for his wand. Theodore doesn't react. He just smiles. "Is it that hard to believe?" he asks. "Blimey, Weasley, you can't be that hopeless."

There's nothing but sincerity in Theodore's voice. Ron opens and closes his mouth, but no words seem to come out. Is it really possible that Theodore could be serious? The rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor is too great; there's no way.

And yet there's a part of him that wants to believe it. He hates to admit it, but he's stolen glances of Theodore, always content to admire him from afar. Can this really become a reality?

"Still not convinced," Theodore says with a laugh. "Fine. Let me convince you."

Before Ron can even ask, Theodore closes the distance between them and pulls Ron close. Their lips meet, and Ron can taste the truth in this kiss. They're such an unlikely couple, but this is real. This is a new start.

"Well?" Theodore asks, stepping back, a grin tugging at his lips.

Ron feels heat creep into his cheeks, spreading to his ears. "I think I might need some more convincing."

Theodore seems happy to oblige.


	34. Piece By Piece (GeorgeSeamus)

_Demonology, task 10: Write about someone suicidal._

 _Word Count: 1194_

* * *

George screams, and Seamus is awake and fully alert in seconds. He sits up and holds his lover close, whisper soft reassurances about how everything is going to be okay. Some days, Seamus doesn't know if he believes it himself, but he's so desperate to take George's pain away.

"You're safe," Seamus says, though they both know they haven't been safe since the battle of Hogwarts ended and the Dark Lord was victorious. "I'm here."

George hasn't been the same since the battle. Really, none of them have, but it shows more in George. He doesn't smile or laugh the way he used to. Ginny says that part of George died with Fred.

"Apparently drowning is a nice way to die," George murmurs as he lays back down. "I imagine it would be peaceful to just let go."

"Why would you even be thinking about that?" Seamus asks with a heavy sigh. "Were you dreaming?"

Seamus still remembers the days when George would be the first to make a joke. Now, his mind seems to be trapped in a dark place, and there is nothing Seamus can do to bring him back. Each day seems to take something from George.

George doesn't answer. His eyes close, and silence falls between the two of them. He doesn't go to sleep; Seamus watches and waits for the gentle snorting and the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest, but it never comes. George doesn't want to talk anymore. It's nothing new, but that doesn't stop it from annoying Seamus.

He knows he shouldn't be upset. George lost his identical twin; that's a level of closeness Seamus will never be able to understand. Still, he hates it. Nothing has ever made him feel more helpless than knowing he can't save the man he loves from the darkness.

"We're going to make it through this," Seamus says quietly, cuddling into George and resting his head on George's chest. "I promise."

A sound escapes George's throat. It takes several moments for Seamus to realize his boyfriend is laughing at the possibility of hope.

…

"What am I supposed to do about it?" Seamus asks as he and Dean make their rounds along the perimeter of the resistance's headquarters. "What _can_ I do about it?"

This conversation has become all too commonplace. George fades a little more each day, and Seamus feels himself slipping. As much as he wants to avoid the truth, there's no way to deny it: George Weasley, the bright-eyed, grinning boy who's spent over two decades making people laugh and lighting up the room, is suicidal.

"You're a good man," Dean tells him. "I know you want to save him."

"I _will_ save him." Why does it sound so hollow, so pitiful?

Dean sighs and shakes his head. He absently smooths out a crease in his West Ham shirt. For several moments, his lips twitch as though he's desperately searching for the right words to say. He shrugs. "You know that war changes people," he says. "Just… keep that in mind, okay?"

Seamus pushes a hand through his fair hair, utterly defeated. He wants to argue, but he knows there's no point. Dean is right; no one walked out of that battle unscathed. They're all haunted in one way or another.

But he can't let George give up the fight. It's bad enough they're losing resistance members left and right, and the dark side is rapidly gaining momentum. He refuses to lose George too.

…

"Fred!"

Seamus holds George close, making soothing shushing sounds."I've got you," he whispers. "Stay with me, okay?"

"I just want to see Fred."

All Seamus can do is stroke his boyfriend's hair and hope that George doesn't act on his desire.

…

"I'm terrified," Seamus admits.

He hates having to say it aloud. He's a Gryffindor. He's meant to be brave and bold, but he can't even manage that.

Another week has passed, and George had only gotten worse somehow. Seamus has sat by, trying to piece his boyfriend back together, but it's so bloody hard.

He sniffles and wipes his eyes. A nervous laugh escapes his lips; he hadn't realized he was crying. He's become an emotional mess lately, and he doesn't know how to fix himself, let alone George.

Dean leans in, nudging Seamus gently with his shoulder. "It's going to be okay."

Seamus is really starting to hate that promise. He's said it time and time again, but he's finally understanding how useless and empty it is. Nothing about this new world is okay. They're all falling apart.

Before he can say anything, a burst of silver streaks through the air. It takes only a moment to recognize George's magpie. The Patronus opens its mouth, and George's voice–soft and shaky–comes out.

"Hate to admit, but I messed up. Oh, Merlin." The Patronus lets out a pained hiss. "I didn't… I don't want to die. I just–"

Seamus doesn't wait around to hear the end of the sentence. He runs. The muscles in his legs ache and burn, but he doesn't slow down. George is in trouble, and he has to reach him.

"Watch it!" someone shouts as he pushes them out of his way.

He doesn't pause or apologize. His mind is focused on only one thing: reaching George before it's too late.

It takes only a couple of minutes to reach the small cabin he shares with his boyfriend. Out of breath and exhausted, Seamus bursts through door and stifles a scream. George is sitting in a pool of crimson on the floor. His wrists are slit, and blood slowly spills from the veins.

"Can we skip to the argument and go straight to the make-up sex?" George asks, and his lips quirk into a faint smile.

"Merlin, George…" Seamus drops to his knees, choking back his tears. "Please don't leave me."

"I just… I wanted to see Fred," George says, tears streaking his freckled face.

Seamus takes a deep breath and draws his wand. He's spent the past few months practicing as a Healer, and he's done pretty well for himself. Still, his hands shake, and it takes a lot to steady himself. This isn't just another patient; this is the love of his life, and Seamus is painfully aware that he may lose him.

He mutters the spell, and the wounds slowly begin to mend. The bleeding stops, and the skin closes itself up.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Seamus says, helping George to his feet.

George throws his arms around him, burying his face in Seamus' shoulder. "I'm sorry, Shay. So bloody sorry."

Seamus pats his back. He can't be angry with George, or even upset. The relief he feels is too great, and all he can do is smile and be grateful that he gets another day with George.

"It may never be okay," Seamus says. "We may never truly come back from this war, but I promise you don't have to be alone. We can get through this together."

"Okay," George says. "Together."

They are healing, slowly but surely. Piece by piece, they are putting their lives back together again.


	35. In the Rain (Hinny)

_Word Count: 495_

* * *

Ginny hates playing in the rain. She remembers her Quidditch career at Hogwarts, back when she looked at the pouring rain and saw a fun challenge. Now, as she mounts her broomstick and follows the rest of the Harpies into the air, she can't help thinking how gross the weather is.

She squints down at the cheering crowd. The rain is so heavy that she doesn't know how anyone can even see what's going on. It's hard to distinguish figures through the downpour, and within a minute of the match's start, she nearly collides with one of her teammates.

"Sorry!" Abby calls, but the rain muffles her voice.

Ginny doesn't acknowledge the apology. She has to focus. If she lets herself get distracted, it won't be good.

The Quaffle heads her way, and she lets go of the broom handle to grab it. It's slick, but she manages to keep a firm grip on it as she soars through the air, weaving between the opposing Chasers. It isn't easy, but she manages to get a goal past Ballycastle's Keeper. The crowd goes wild, and their cheering downs out the rain for just a moment.

Grinning, Ginny flies into position, feeling more confident. She still isn't happy about the weather, but maybe it isn't so bad.

"Heads up!"

She doesn't have a chance to process the sudden warning. Something crashes against the back of her head. There's a sharp pain, and then darkness.

…

"There you are."

Ginny groans and sits up. She recognizes the stadium's infirmary. During her three years with the Harpies, she has visited this place more often than she'd like to admit. "How bad is it?"

Harry grins. "Well, you'll live," he says, and his cheerful tone makes Ginny scowl.

"That was beautifully vague, Harry," she grumbles. "Want to actually answer my question?"

Her boyfriend chuckles and takes her by the hand. He brushes his thumb gently over her knuckles. "Bludger to the head," he reports. "It knocked you out and busted you up a fair bit, but the Healers were quick. No need for further treatment."

Ginny visibly relaxes at that, relief washing over her. She leans back in the bed. "Did we win?"

Harry laughs. "You are ridiculous," he says. "Your head was split open, you fell from way up high, and yet you're worried about _who won the match_?"

Ginny realizes how silly it is, and she joins him in laughing. Harry has often teased her, saying she reminds him a little too much of Wood sometimes. Maybe she can see it. Her passion for Quidditch can get a little out of hand.

"It's a valid concern," she mutters.

Harry leans in and presses a quick kiss to her forehead. "It's still going on," he tells her. "Harpies are ahead."

"Good," she says. "At least my sacrifice wasn't in vain."

"Ridiculous," he repeats.

"You love me."

Harry kisses her again, trailing from her cheek to her lips. "I do."


	36. Relax (SeverusLucius)

_Word Count: 328_

* * *

"You look tense."

Severus rolls his eyes, lips tugging into a scowl when he sees Lucius in the doorway to his study. "And you," he says, turning his dark eyes back to his notes, "look like you have no business being in my home."

Lucius laughs at that and swaggers forward. He pulls out his wand, waving it and Summoning a bottle of wine and two wine glasses. "I would hardly call this miserable little hovel a home," he counters, pulling up a chair and sitting across from Severus.

Severus hates him a little bit. He wants nothing more than to enjoy a quiet evening at home, outlining his lesson plans for the next school year. Lucius Malfoy is a terrible distraction.

"Relax; have a drink with me." Lucius removes the cork from the bottle and pours the sweet red wine into the first glass, the second. "You work too much."

It isn't fair that Lucius is so perfect. Severus has a life; he has things do, and those things shouldn't involve Lucius. Besides, Lucius is married, and this is so wrong. He knows he ought to decline the drink and send Lucius on his way.

He doesn't. Severus has never rejected him before, and he seems to be unable to do so now. Lucius always finds a way to show up and twist Severus' desires. It hasn't that hard; all Lucius has to do is exist.

"There you go," Lucius praises, climbing to his feet and moving behind Severus. He rests his hand on Severus' shoulder. "Just relax."

Lucius makes it too easy. Severus isn't much of a drinker, but Lucius can make him do anything. He takes a sip, and his body relaxes.

"Good." Lucius leans in, pressing a kiss to Severus' neck. "Very good."

It doesn't matter that Severus has a million things to do. Lucius' lips are on his skin, and nothing else seems to exist in the world, if only for a moment.


	37. A Boy Worth Fighting For (BlaiseDaphne)

_Word Count: 560_

* * *

A thousand insults rest on the tip of her tongue, but Daphne swallows them down. A battle is about to break out, and she knows her hostility is more from fear than anger. She can't really blame Blaise for wanting to take refuge in the safety of the pub, so far away from all the action. They're all Slytherins, after all. Slytherins leave the reckless behavior to the Gryffindors.

A small smile tugs at her lips. When she was eleven, the Sorting Hat had said she would do well in Gryffindor. She hadn't seen it then, but she's starting to wonder. Maybe she's always been a little too bold for others comfort, but she hasn't been able to understand why.

"Bloody lions," she laughs as she climbs into the passage that leads back to the castle.

"Daphne! Wait!"

Her heart flutters when she hears Blaise's voice. It isn't fair. She has a battle to fight; why should his voice make her feel like a giddy schoolgirl?

She turns, dark brows raising. "Yes, Blaise? Have you changed your mind?"

It's a long shot. Blaise doesn't idolize the Dark Lord the way some of the others do, but he doesn't oppose him either. Daphne has never understood his neutrality, but she supposes it's just that he's more of a Slytherin than anyone else she knows.

"Hardly," he answers. There's a strange nervous energy about him that confuses Daphne. Blaise has always been so sure and confident. "Look… Daph… I'm not stop. I know what happens during wars." He takes a deep breath and plunges his hand into his pocket. "I don't want to miss my chance to tell you how I feel."

There's that fluttering again. It's ridiculous. Daphne can face any threat and keep her head held high, but there's something about Blaise that makes it hard to breathe. "And how's that?"

"I've loved you for a very long time," he answers. " _Love_ , yes. It goes so far beyond friendship or just fancying you. I…" He pulls a bracelet from his pocket. It's a thin, silver band that's encrusted with heart-shaped amber. "I want you to wear this. It's yours."

Daphne accepts it, her mind still racing with confusion. A smile plays at her lips, and she almost laughs. The feeling has been mutual all this time?

She throws her arms around him and holds him tight. It's tempting to stay here and pretend the world isn't falling apart around them. Blaise feels like home.

But, at the end of the day, she has made a promise to Neville and the others. This is her fight too, and she is a woman of honor. Reluctantly, she pulls away "I have to go."

Blaise's lips quirk into a bitter smile. "I wish you would stay."

"I know. But I'll be back," she assures him before kissing him quickly.

She turns and runs before she can lose her nerve.

It's dangerous to think you'll make it though. War is messy, and she thinks of all the innocent lives that have been taken. How many of them had promised a loved one they'll be back?

Still, she holds her head high and picks up her pace. Maybe she won't be able to keep her promise, but she will do her best. It will be easier now because she has a boy worth fighting for.


	38. What Was Lost (RegBarty)

Word _Count: 492_

* * *

"Oops! Sorry, Crouch."

But the laughter that accompanies the apology tells Barty that the person isn't sorry for knocking his books out of his hands. He kneels down, trying to collect the stray school supplies and hating the fact that everyone is staring. His cheeks burn, and it takes everything for him to not lash out.

"Here." Regulus Black drops to his knees, collecting a busted bottle of ink. He pulls out his wand and casts a quick spell to clean up the mess. "Let me help."

"I don't need you to rescue me."

Regulus snorts. "Really? Because you look like a damsel in distress right now."

Barty doesn't respond, but he doesn't try to push the other Slytherin away again. If Regulus wants to help, maybe he shouldn't try to stop him. Besides, Barty really needs to learn to make friends.

"Thank you."

Regulus grins and hands Barty the last roll of stray parchment. "See you around."

…

Befriending Regulus is ridiculous enough. Barty knows what his father has to say about the Blacks. He shouldn't get too close to Regulus, but he can't help it.

Worse, still, he falls in love. He would follow Regulus blindly, and he thinks the other boy knows it.

"It's the right thing to do," Regulus says, tucking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. "The Dark Lord has the right idea."

Barty nods, but he doesn't really believe it. The only thing he likes about the Dark Lord is that his father hates him and the Death Eaters. A simple case of teenage rebellion isn't enough to make him join, though. At the end of the day, he doesn't believe in the Death Eaters' cause.

"I'm joining," Regulus continues, blowing a cloud of smoke out. "I want you to come with me."

Barty shakes his head. He can't. But, fuck, it's so tempting.

"Please." Regulus rests his hand on Barty's. "I need you."

And that's all the pressure it takes. Barty cracks.

…

They are invincible. The Dark Mark burns into their skin, but Barty can only laugh.

That night, Regulus is in his bed. He kisses Barty hard, and they melt into the sheets.

…

Something changes in Regulus after they take the Mark together. Barty doesn't know what it is, but his lover twists and changes into something unrecognizable.

"What happened to you?" Barty asks, stroking Regulus' dark hair.

Regulus lights his fourth cigarette in the past hour. He doesn't answer.

…

Maybe he shouldn't be surprised when Regulus isn't there anymore. Maybe they were never built to last. Still, he's tried so hard to pretend that they are unbreakable, and now everything has fallen apart.

…

"I've always loved Regulus," Barty says, downing a burning shot of liquor. "Ever since we were kids."

"What happened?" Peter asks.

Barty's lips quirk. "He broke my heart."

They were never destined for a happy ending, but that doesn't stop his heart from breaking.


	39. Sweet As Candy (TeddyVictoire)

_Word Count: 336_

* * *

"Teddy! Teddy, wait!" Victoire picks up her pace and runs as fast as her tiny legs can carry her.

Teddy grins at her. "Slowpoke," he teases. "When you're six like me, you won't be slow anymore."

She doesn't know if that's true or not, but Teddy is older, and that means he knows everything. At least that what he says.

"Will I be as fast as you when I'm six?" she asks when she reaches him.

His grin only brightens. He walks along the shore, and the waves crash against the sand and splash his bare feet. "Nope. When you're six, I'll be seven," he answers. "When I'm seven, I'll be even faster."

Victoire follows him along, frowning. It isn't fair. If he keeps getting faster and faster, she'll never be able to catch up to him. With a sniffle, she glares at the shells that dot the sand.

"Whassamatter?" Teddy asks, pausing to take her hand. "Don't cry, Vic."

"I wanna be as fast as you. I wanna keep up."

"Why?"

She looks up at him, and her cheeks burn. His hair has changed to her favorite shade of pink. Teddy always wears that color when she's upset.

"Because I like you, stupid," she answers, stamping her foot for good measure.

Teddy laughs. "I like you too."

"No!" Why did boys have to be so silly? "I like you, like I want to be your girlfriend!"

She's told her father already. He had just laughed and kissed her forehead before assuring her that she is too young to worry about being anyone's girlfriend. Maybe he's right. Actually saying it feels funny, and she looks away, embarrassed.

Teddy kisses her cheek. "Good. I like you like that too." He tugs her hand gently. "Come on! Let's see if your mum has any candy. I'll let you pick first since that's what boyfriends do!"

Giggling, Victoire follows him back to her parents' cottage. She has her first boyfriend, and even candy can't be as good as this.


	40. Vision (SybillMinerva)

_Word Count: 336_

* * *

"Let me read your palm," Sybill says.

Minerva takes a deep breath. She knows there's no point in saying her usual bit about how palmistry isn't real, and divination is not a proper branch of magic. By now, Sybill knows exactly where Minerva stands on the matter. Still, her lips quirk. Sybill is such a strange woman, but that's one of the reasons Minerva loves her so much. At the very least, there's never a dull moment between them.

"You know how I feel about this," Minerva says with a chuckle, keeping her palms flat against her hips. She raises her dark brows as a rare smile creeps over her face.

"Yes, my dear," Sybill agrees, "but, you see… I had a dream last night. In it, you refused to let me read your palm. I know how much you hate it when the powers that be are correct."

Minerva could easily argue that the so-called powers that be are never right. For the most part, Sybill's predictions are luck and self-fulfilling prophecy. Of course, she knows her lover won't listen to reason.

Almost grudgingly, she holds out her palm. In the end, she almost always lets Sybill win. Even if she doesn't agree with it or believe in it, there's really no harm in allowing the other woman to have her fun. It means something Sybill; that is enough for Minerva. She refuses to be a killjoy.

Sybill is silent for several seconds. She traces her slender finger gently over Minerva's palm. Minerva shivers. Really, it isn't fair. She has always prided herself on being a rational, reasonable person, but Sybill makes her come undone so easily.

"It's just as I thought," Sybill says softly, looking up. "I have received a glimpse with my inner eye."

"And what did you see?" Minerva asks, unable to resist playing along.

"Myself," Sybill answers.

With a laugh, Minerva leans in and kisses her. She doesn't need the inner eye to tell her that Sybill belongs in her life.


	41. The Sweetest (FleurTonks)

_Word Count: 349_

* * *

"Come on!" Tonks insists, lips pursing into a small pout. "You're going to love Honeydukes."

Fleur hesitates. Really, Tonks isn't surprised. Her girlfriend is lovely, but she always seems to look at everything as though it's somehow beneath her. Maybe Fleur is a bit arrogant sometimes, but Tonks still loves her.

"Let me guess," Tonks says, grinning and wrapping her arm around Fleur's slender waist as she leads her into the popular shop. "The sweet shops in France are much more grand! It looks like they're lined with diamonds, but, really, they're lumps of the finest sugar in the world!"

Fleur huffs, and her lips twist into a scowl that fails to make her look intimidating. Tonks bites the inside of her cheek, trying desperately not to laugh as Fleur blushes a deep pink in her annoyance. Perhaps Tonks has struck a nerve; she doesn't think she's said anything out of line, but sometimes it's hard for her to tell.

" _Oui._ You are very funny, _mon amor,_ " Fleur says with a roll of her eyes. "I just 'zink 'zat 'zere are perhaps better places to be 'zan… 'ere." Her nose wrinkles as she looks around.

Tonks snorts. "Don't act like you don't love sweets!" She reaches out and grabs what looks to be Ambrosius' newest creation, dragonfruit dragons. "Look! A new flavor! And where else can you find a great bargain on Droobles?"

Fleur shakes her head, but she smiles. The tension fades from her body as she leans in slightly and rests her head on Tonks' shoulder. "You are impossible," she mutters.

"But you love me."

Fleur chuckles, nodding. She reaches up and brushes her fingertips tenderly over Tonks' cheek. "With all of my 'eart," she says. "Now, where are 'ze Ice Mice? I love 'zem."

Tonks rolls her eyes but leads Fleur toward the shelf lined with boxes of Ice Mice. "All of Honeydukes before you," she says incredulously, "and you choose _Ice Mice?_ Really?"

But Fleur smiles, and Tonks decides that's all the reason she needs to forgive her girlfriend for her poor choice in sweets.


	42. Confession (PercyPenelope)

_Word Count: 498_

* * *

"Confession time," Penelope says before lifting her glass of butter to her lips and taking a sip. It leaves behind a moustache made of white foam, but she pokes her tongue out and quickly licks away the sweet mess.

Percy leans back in his chair, amused that Penelope has anything to confess. Though she doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve, she's always been blunt and fairly straightforward. He adjusts his glasses and offers her a smirk. "A qconfession?" he echoes with a soft chuckle. "What is it?"

Penelope is silent for several moments. She tugs at her dark curls, seeming to lose herself in thought. Silence hangs between them for so long that Percy wonders if she's changed her mind about telling him.

Finally, a soft, sweet laugh spills from her lips, and she blushes a dusty pink. "I use to think you were quite mysterious," she admits. "Actually, I think that might be one reason I fancied you so much."

Percy stares at her, blinking in confusion. Mysterious? _Him?_ He thinks there must be some mistake. As far as he knows, he's hardly mysterious. To him, mysterious is a word that ought to be applied to someone interesting. He's not exactly the most interesting bloke in the castle.

"It's true," she says, as though she can sense his doubts. She takes another sip of her butterbeer. "You were always so quiet. I wanted to know what was going on inside that head of yours. I just knew it had to be something brilliant."

His cheeks heat suddenly, and he looks down, staring at his wine like it's the most interesting thing at the table. He hadn't had any idea of this. All this time, he's been unable to shake the feeling that Penelope is with him as some sort of joke, and he's spent three years waiting for the punchline to finally come. Maybe he needs to stop being so hard on himself.

"Took me half a year to work up the courage to talk to you," she adds with a laugh. "I thought you would turn me down."

"Only an idiot would do that."

And he means it. Penelope is beautiful with her bright smile and radiant curls. In the back of his mind, he still worries that he isn't good enough, that she'll realize she's wasting her time with him. Knowing that there's a possibility she could truly care for him had been an epic moment in his life.

Penelope chuckles. "I'm just saying. You weren't the easiest bloke to approach."

"Sorry."

With a grin, she reaches out and takes his hand. "Don't apologize, silly," she says, her tone soft and teasing. "We found our way in the end."

He smiles at that. "Yeah," he agrees. "We did."

There are still days where he thinks he isn't enough, and he worries it's only a matter of time before she agrees and runs. In the meantime, he has her. That will have to be enough.


	43. Hidden Away (LeeRoxanne)

_Word Count: 357_

* * *

Roxanne pauses, lipstick inches away from her lips. She catches Lee's gaze in the mirror, and she can't help but grin. "What?" she asks with a soft laugh before applying the lipstick, taking special care as she paints her lips an almost nude shade of pink. "Why are you staring?"

Really, she doesn't mind. There's something about his gaze that makes her feel special, like she can conquer the world. She knows theirs is not a love that many would understand. The age difference complicates things; they haven't even told her parents yet, for fear of the inevitable backlash. Still, Lee is her favorite person, and she loves these little moments with him.

"I'm just having a moment," he sees, approaching her from behind and leaning forward, pressing a quick kiss to her neck. "Sometimes I can't get over how attractive you are and how lucky I am."

She grins at that, freshly painted lips tugging back to reveal an amused, pearly grin. "Attractive?" she echoes, twisting the bottom of the tube so that the lipstick retracts. She sets it aside and turns, resting her back against the countertop.

"Yes," he says, pushing a hand through her wild, coppery curls. "Beyond attractive, really."

Her cheeks heat suddenly, and she looks away. She is a grown woman, but Lee somehow never fails to make her feel like a giddy, blushing schoolgirl.

"You've got that look," he says, chuckling. "Professor McGonagall used to give me that look when your dad, Fred, and I did something particularly stupid. What did I do? Or… say?"

"Guilty conscience?" she teases before wrapping her slender arms around him and holding him close. Her head rests against his chest, and she can't help just smile. "I just love you, is all."

"And I love you."

Her smile broadens. Their love isn't perfect. Some days, she worries that they'll be resigned to this life forever, always having to hide away and pretend. But, really, she doesn't mind. Lee is still hers, and she is his. At the end of the day, nothing can compare to the joy she feels with him.

Love will be enough.


	44. Invincible (Deamus)

_Word Count:_ 397

* * *

It's been so long since he's been inside Hogwarts, and it takes Dean several moments to adjust again. This is it. The running is long since over, but now he's done hiding. The end of the war is coming, and he is ready to fight.

His eyes rest on Seamus, who has clearly been hurt, and his heart aches. For once, he doesn't care about the others and what they may think. He rushes to his boyfriend and pulls him close, holding him tightly. It's been nearly a year since he's been able to do this. Suddenly, it feels like everything that's been missing from his life has returned, and he is whole again.

"Jeez, Shay," he teases, taking a reluctant step and offering Seamus a shaky smile. "Can't even go a few months without getting into trouble."

Seamus chuckles. "You're one to talk," he says, folding his arms over his chest. "How many Snatchers did you encounter out there?"

Dean clears his throat and shuffles his feet awkwardly. "Well, it's really a funny story," he mutters guiltily.

It's amazing how easily he falls back into normalcy. The past several months have been chaotic and strange, but he finally feels like maybe everything will be okay again. All it takes is Seamus.

It isn't fair, though. This is the first time he's felt safe in a long time. The pain and loneliness melt away, and everything just feels _right._

But it can't stay like this. He's been running and hiding for a reason, just like how Seamus has fighting for something. This is where they will make their final stand.

If he's honest, Dean hates it. He wants nothing more than to just take his boyfriend by the hand and lead him back to Gryffindor tower. They could hide away, holding one another while the battle wages.

He knows it isn't an option. Although it's nice to dream, he knows they have to see this through.

"I'm glad your back," Seamus says before leaning in and kissing Dean gently on the lips.

"Me too."

They may not survive the night. If Dean has learned one thing during his time on the run, it's that nothing is promised and even the best people can die. Still, having the chance to fight by Seamus' side is all he could ever ask for.

In that moment, he feels truly invincible.


	45. Planning and Perfectionism (AlScor)

_Word Count: 556_

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?" Scorpius asks, appearing in the kitchen doorway, looking completely disheveled and half-asleep. "Have you even been to bed yet?"

Albus clears his throat, his cheeks heating with warm guilt. He glances at the steaming cup of coffee by his hand. "Funny story…"

By now, he's lost track of exactly how many cups he's had. Any time his eyes threatened to close, he brewed a fresh pot and drank it as quickly as possible. He knows this isn't good for his health. The stress of it all will probably kill him before he has a chance to walk down the aisle. Still, he wants everything to be perfect, and he's struggling more than he'd like to admit.

Scorpius raises his brows and takes a seat across from him. "Why do I get the feeling I won't find it terribly funny?" he asks, waving his wand and summoning a pitcher of orange juice and a glass. He pours himself a glass. "You look like hell, Albus. Sleep is your friend, you know."

"I know… But look!"

He pushes the brochures forward. Each pamphlet has bright and beautiful pictures depicting some fun, amazing adventure. Rio de Janeiro, New York City, Hawaii, and so many other places are sprawled out on their kitchen table. He had wanted inspiration for their honeymoon, but he's so overwhelmed. Why are there so many brilliant places? It isn't fair!

"You need to choose," Albus says. "I can't. I'm useless."

Scorpius picks up the brochure advertising fun I the sun on some cruise or another. He studies it, blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "This is what's got you so stressed out that you can't sleep?" he asks incredulously. "Our honeymoon?"

Albus shrugs. "It's an important thing to consider! Teddy and Vic went hiking in the Swiss Alps," he points out. "I would love to do that, but they might think we copied them."

Scorpius climbs to his feet and moves closer. He stands behind Albus and leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "You're ridiculous. You know that, right?"

Albus scowls, but he doesn't argue. He's all too aware that he's not thinking clearly. This shouldn't be as stressful as he's making it out to be, but he can't help it. He's loved Scorpius for so long; he wants their wedding to be perfect, including their honeymoon. It feels like he's poured every ounce of energy into planning, and he's drowning.

"Take a break from planning," Scorpius says. "I don't want to see a single wedding magazine or travel brochure. Absolutely _no_ planning today. You and I are going to spend it together."

"Doing what?"

He knows it's a silly question. They used to enjoy themselves all the time until recently, when Albus had become so consumed by his planning. He blushes, realizes suddenly just how much he's lost touch with the rest of the world.

"There's that new ice cream place in Hogsmeade," Scorpius says. "I know how much you love salted caramel and almond."

Albus licks his lips and grins at the thought. "You had me at 'ice cream'," he laughs.

He isn't going to stop trying to make things perfect. But today he will allow himself to rest and remember why he wants things to be so perfect in the first place.


	46. Meaning (Romione)

_Word Count: 511_

* * *

"Can't sleep?" Ron asks.

It's a stupid question, of course. It's only been a day since the war ended, and they are all struggling to stay afloat. He can't imagine what sort of nightmares might have kept Hermione awake.

She looks up at him, offering him a tired smile. "No," she confirms, lifting her steaming cup of tea to her lips and blowing. "You?"

Ron shakes his head. He doesn't know how anyone can sleep, but this is the quietest he can remember the Burrow ever being. It might even be pleasant, if not for the awful circumstances. He had heard his mother's breakdown only hours before. Ginny had screamed and raged and nearly destroyed her room trying to vent her frustration over losing Fred.

"It's going to be okay, isn't it?" Hermione asks. "Not now, obviously. But… eventually?"

Ron sits beside her, resting his elbows on the table. He sighs heavily. "I don't know anymore. It doesn't feel real."

He wishes he could tell her that everything will work out, that they'll find a way to heal. Maybe he _could_ tell her as much, but he doesn't think she would believe him. The tragedy is still too fresh.

"Ron… About the kiss…" It's strange to see her blush. Hermione has always been so sure, so confident. Seeing her nervous like this is baffling.

His lips quirk, and he looks away. "Heat of the moment, I know," he says, and it's hard to keep the bitterness from his voice. "We didn't know if we were going to live or die."

"Is that what it was for you?" she asks, and the softness of her features is gone. Annoyance that borders on anger takes its place.

"No." And it's true. He's spent so long trying to hide from his feelings and pretend that Hermione is just a friend and he doesn't look at her _that_ way. "No. I meant it."

The hostility fades, and she visibly relaxes. Ron breathes a sigh of relief. It hadn't just been real to him. He had been afraid that it would be something she would regret, that it had been some silly impulse in the face of uncertainty.

"Good," she says. "I meant it too."

Silence hangs between them. Ron shifts his gaze to the kitchen window. The inky black sky slowly gives way to the softer colors of the sunrise.

"What do we do now?" he asks when the silence becomes too much.

He doesn't know what he means. What do they do about whatever it is that they are? What do they do to keep from going insane with grief? What will they do when the pain becomes too much and healing seems impossible? But he asks anyway because Hermione is the brightest witch of their age, and she has to know.

She rests her head on his shoulder. "I wish I knew." She reaches for his hand. "But we'll figure it out. Together."

It's the smallest semblance of hope, but Ron will take it. At least he doesn't have to do this alone.


	47. Asking Questions (GilderoyRita)

_Word Count: 454_

* * *

Rita feels ridiculous. She knows there's no reason to be nervous. This is hardly her first interview, and she's spoken with her fair share of celebrities. Still, the prospect of sitting down and actually interviewing _the_ Gilderoy Lockhart makes her heart race. She feels giddy as a blushing schoolgirl as she sits across from him at Madam Puddifoot's.

Gilderoy doesn't even spare her a glance. He gives their order–she doesn't know how she feels about him ordering for her, but her stomach is in knots, and she thinks that maybe she doesn't mind–to the waitress before examining his nails. "I was worried you might have forgotten about me," he says.

Rita feels her cheeks flush with heat. "Sorry," she says, pulling out her quill. "Shall we begin?"

His demeanor changes in an instant. Gilderoy leans forward and offers her a bright, pearly grin. "Of course! I always knew you had excellent taste, Miss Skeeter," he says. "But when you requested an interview with _me_? Well, I knew you were the most intelligent reporter alive."

She can't help but smile at that. Though Rita has received plenty of compliments on her work–and quite a lot of hatred, though that comes with the job–none of it compares to being praised by Gilderoy. No other reporter has thought to get an exclusive interview. Only Rita had dared to be so bold. Her editor had called her mad; Rita can't wait to prove him wrong.

…

The interview goes swimmingly. Rita is still grinning proudly when it wraps it. She sips the last of her tea, though she doesn't particularly care for Earl Grey. If Gilderoy chose it, she'll take it.

"Thank you so much," she says, tucking her trusty quill in her bag. "The story will run over the weekend, but I can send you an advanced copy, if you'd like."

"Excellent!" He claps his hands together in excitement. "Now, I do believe it's my turn to ask you the questions."

This catches Rita by surprise. She stares blankly for several moments, wondering if she's heard him correctly. That hadn't been part of the agreement. Besides, why would someone like him want to interview a reporter?

"Just one question," he assures her. "Would you like to have dinner with me? I'm thinking Friday night will be best. I have a book signing Wednesday, then a spa day Thursday."

"Dinner?"

Gilderoy nods. "And a drink after," he says, sipping his tea. "I rather like your company. A date would be nice."

She can't believe her luck. She had only wanted an interview. Now she's planning a date? Is this even real?

"I'd love to."

It isn't a conventional end to an interview, but Rita doesn't mind at all.


	48. Make a Wish (Chaco)

_Word Count: 359_

* * *

"Close your eyes and make a wish," Charlie says, grinning broadly as he holds out the cake.

His excitement fades the moment he sees his boyfriend's hesitant expression. Draco has never had a good poker face. Charlie sighs. "What?" he asks. "I didn't poison it."

Draco snorts, pale eyes rolling. "Well, I would certainly hope not. I always assumed if you murdered me, you would just feed me to one of the dragons."

Charlie stares at him, jaw slack. "What a cheerful thought to have on your birthday."

Draco shrugs. His lips quirk into the faintest smile before he turns his attention back to the cake at hand. "Did you bake it?"

Now Charlie understands. Draco is a terrible cook; Charlie, on the other hand, is an amazing cook, but he can't bake to save his life. Maybe he can understand why Draco may not be eager to try it.

"Mum baked it," he assures Draco. "I just decorated."

And it shows. The green icing job is poorly done. Some spots seem to be piled on with icing. Others are nearly bare, and the chocolate cake peeks through. Still, all things considered, the cake looks nice. At the very least, he knows it will be delicious.

"Are you going to make a wish or not?"

Draco scowls. "Don't rush me, Weasley," he says, using Charlie's surname as they do whenever they bicker.

Charlie grins. Their relationship isn't perfect. He's too fiery, and Draco is too bloody stubborn. They clash, and sometimes their teasing turns meaner than intended. Regardless, Charlie wouldn't trade it for the world.

"Have you made your wish yet?" Charlie asks with an impatient sigh. He folds his arms over his chest, emphasizing the fact that he's grown bored with waiting. "Some of us would like to actually eat the cake."

"Piss off. Keep rushing me, and I'll take my precious bloody time."

"You already are."

Sometimes it may look like they hate each other, but Draco is Charlie's heart. This little moments mean everything to them.

"There. Wish made."

Charlie grins. "Happy birthday, love," he says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's forehead.


	49. Keeping Promises (ParvatiLavender)

_Word Count: 333_

* * *

Parvati hates surprises. To make matters worse, it's freezing out, and the crunch of snow beneath her boots is a constant reminder of exactly how gross the weather is. Lavender keeps her hands over Parvati's eyes, and she seems determined to keep it all one big secret. Still, Parvati won't complain. She loves Lavender more than anything. It won't hurt her to put her preferences aside for a little while and play along.

"Careful!" Lavender cautions.

The warning comes just in time. Parvati's foot finds the patch of ice, and she just barely manages to right herself. Good. The last thing she needs is to fall and bust her ass. "To be fair," she says, lips tugging into a smile, "it wouldn't be the first time I've fallen for you."

Lavender snorts. "You're ridiculous."

Parvati shrugs. "How much longer? I'm freezing my ass off, you know."

"You aren't. I have a perfect view off your ass, and I assure you, it's still there."

With a laugh, Parvati shrugs. And Lavender calls _her_ ridiculous?

"Ready?"

"Ready," Parvati confirms.

Lavender drops her hands, and Parvati is greeted by a cozy little white cottage. Her heart flutters. During their seventh year, she and Lavender would distract themselves from the pain and chaos by planning their dream home. They had decided a nice little white cottage would be perfect. Lavender would grow sunflowers during the spring, and Parvati would collect wildflowers from the field. They had sworn their home would always be filled with laughter and love.

"You found it," Parvati whispers, turning her gaze to her girlfriend.

Lavender nods, smiling. She wraps her arms around Parvati and holds her close. "We promised we would, if we survived."

Those had been desperate words, a way of holding on to hope during a dark time. Parvati never would have guessed that Lavender would manage it, but she's glad she's found a way.

"Well?" Lavender prompts. "What do you think?"

Parvati kisses her. "It's almost as perfect as you."


	50. An Ounce of Prevention (Jily)

_Anatomy and Physiology task 1: Write about someone taking measures to avoid getting sick_

 _Word Count: 986_

* * *

Remus wrinkles his nose when he enters the dormitory. "What on earth are you doing, James? It smells disgusting."

In retrospect, maybe this isn't the best place to try out Frank's home remedy. He isn't the only person that sleeps here. Still, all James can is offer Remus an apologetic smile. "Newt bladder, mint leaves, and powdered porcupine quill," he says, as though it should be obvious.

"Why?"

James clears his throat, cheeks burning. Suddenly, he realizes exactly how ridiculous this is. "There's a tickle in my throat," he admits.

Remus raises his brows, seemingly still confused. James sighs and shakes his head. Given the fact that it's cold and flu season, a tickle in his throat shouldn't be enough to make James worry, but, for him, it's a tragedy. It doesn't matter that he's gone three years without so much as a sniffle. No, this horrible hint of an oncoming illness has started two days before he's supposed to go out on a date with Lily.

"I can't get sick," James says, poking his finger against the thin layer of sticky grossness under his his chin. "Life is cruel, but I will be damned if I let this ruin my plans!"

"Why don't you just pay Madam Pomfrey a visit?" Remus suggests patiently. "Her potions don't smell quiet so rancid."

James snorts and adjusts his glasses. "Right. Well, we'll see what's so rancid when I'm out with Lily on Saturday!"

Remus raises his brows, thin lips quirking as though he wants to smile. "That… made no sense whatsoever, mate."

…

Frank's remedy turns out to be a bust. By the next morning, James' throat has gotten worse. Instead of an annoying tickle, it now feels as though he's swallowed hundreds of needles and glass shards.

"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing," Remus says as he adjusts the knot in his tie.

"Don't be ridiculous, Moony," Sirius insists. "He doesn't need a potion to cure him."

James feels the faintest hint of relief flutter through his body. He grins. "See? Sirius knows."

Sirius waves a hand at him, feigning modesty. "Hush, James. You're going to make me blush," he says with a giggle for effect. "Soak your socks in three egg yolks for twenty minutes, then wear them for the rest of the day. The yolk will be absorbed by your feet, and it will carry the illness away."

It makes sense, really. James hasn't paid much attention in Potions, but he vaguely remembers using eggs a few times. Maybe those had been for some sort of remedies; he honestly can't remember. Still, he rushes towards his best friend and pulls Sirius in, hugging him tightly. "You are a bloody genius!" he says.

Remus frowns and shakes his head, his tawny hair whipping against his face with the movement. "That is completely unhygienic!" he protests. "James, please reconsider."

James releases Sirius and takes a step back. His hazel eyes rest upon his friend. "You worry too much. What could possibly go wrong?"

…

James is tired and disoriented when he opens his eyes. He sits up, but his body is too weak. Within seconds, he collapses again.

"You are a bloody idiot, Potter."

James squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again. The room slowly comes into focus, and he recognizes the hospital wing at last. "What…?" He turns his head, and he can't help but to smile. "Hey, Evans."

She doesn't look too happy to see him. Her nostrils flare, and her cheeks are stained with a dull pink blush. James isn't an expert on women and their emotions, but he assumes he's done something wrong.

"Don't you 'Hey, Evans' me," she says, tugging at her auburn hair. "Yolks in your shoes? Really?"

James smiles weakly. He pushes a hand through his messy hair. "To be fair, the yolk was on my socks," he mutters.

"What the hell?"

"Sirius said it was supposed to keep me from getting sick!"

Maybe he shouldn't have listened to Sirius or Frank. In the back of his mind, he had suspected that those ideas had been ridiculous, but he had been desperate. The worst part is knowing he'll have to face Remus. At least Remus isn't the _I told you so_ type.

"Good job," Lily says dryly. "Not only did you still end up with tonsillitis, but you also managed to contract a foodborne illness."

"I'm gonna murder Sirius…"

"What were you thinking?" she asks.

"I was thinking that I didn't want to get sick and miss our date. Guess I blew that," he says, sinking into the soft pillows. If only he could let them swallow him up. That seems a better fate than dying from embarrassment.

"Oh." Her tone is softer now, and James chances a glance. Lily's emerald eyes swim with concern, and she moves closer, gently taking his hand. "You really are an idiot, James."

He laughs, wincing at the strain on his throat. It's not as bad as it had been this morning. Whatever Madam Pomfrey has given him seems to be working. It's a small silver lining, but he'll take it.

"Yeah, well… That's part of my charm."

Lily chuckles and rests a hand on his shoulder. "I'm still going to Hogsmeade."

James deflates at that. He should have known it would happen. This isn't the most flattering situation; of course Lily would lose interest now. He really can't blame her, but that doesn't stop it from hurting.

"I'll bring you some sweets back," she says. "Maybe stop by the kitchens and get a picnic together."

"Why?"

"Because we have a date," she reminds him. "I'm not letting something like a little illness stop me from enjoying myself."

James smiles at that. He couldn't stop himself from getting sick, but it doesn't matter. In the end, he still has a chance with Lily. All things considered, it's more than worth it.


	51. Valentine (CedricCho)

_Word Count:_ 305

* * *

"Well, don't you look handsome?" Cho says, smiling as Cedric approaches.

He always looks handsome, of course, but there's something different about him today. His hair is neatly, almost meticulously combed, and he's wearing Cho's favorite grey-and-white striped shirt. It's almost like he had dressed with no other goal than to impress her.

Her boyfriend grins and leans down, kissing her cheek. Cho blushes. It's her favorite thing. Others may enjoy snogging or groping, but sweet little cheek kisses have always made her happier than anything else.

"Valentine's Day is Saturday," he tells her. "It's also a Hogsmeade trip."

Cho nods, grinning. It isn't like they haven't gone out on plenty of dates. From trips to Hogsmeade to lazy Sunday afternoons spent lounging around by the lake, Cedric has always found time to spend with her. Still, a Valentine's Day date is something else entirely. Maybe it's silly, but it means a lot to her. Cho has never had a boyfriend on Valentine's Day.

"I…" Cedric reaches into his bag and pulls out a heart-shaped box of chocolates. A soft pink stains his cheeks as he holds the box out to her. "I was wondering if you wanted to get a cup of tea with me. Well, I'll get cocoa, of course."

It's adorable that he still acts so shy when he asks her on a date. They've been together for two months now, and he is still just as nervous as he had been the day he'd asked her out. It's sweet, really.

She accepts the box, grinning. The chocolates are all filled with her favorite fillings. "Of course I'll go with you." She stands on her tiptoes, kissing his cheek. "Does this mean I get to be your Valentine?"

Cedric nods. "Only if I can be yours."

"I think that can be arranged."


	52. Food and Moods (Scorose)

_Word Count: 412_

* * *

Rose isn't having the best day when she stomps up the little path that lead to the house she shares with Scorpius. After spending months preparing her project to present in New York, the trip has been canceled. She is exhausted and angry, and the little voice in her head keeps whispering that she has wasted so much time.

She opens the door, drags her favorite teal suitcase in, and freezes, her blood boiling within seconds. Deep breathing doesn't help. Her nerves are already shot, and even the smallest problem feels like the end of the world.

"I haven't even been gone for a day," she says, gesturing at the takeaway containers that are piled on the coffee table, "and you've destroyed the living room."

Scorpius doesn't even flinch. By now, he probably knows that Rose's bad days equal sour moods. With a shrug, he reaches out and grabs a container of curry. "It's just a few boxes," he says. "You know takeaway is my addiction."

"And you know you aren't supposed to be eating it so much," she reminds him, sitting beside her and removing the ribbon from her hair. "Too much salt, remember?"

Her boyfriend pokes his tongue out before lifting a forkful of coconut curry shrimp. "Look how delicious it is. You know you want a bite," he teases. When she doesn't move, Scorpius blushes takes a bite instead. "At least have a cookie. They're fresh."

It's strange how her bad mood seems to melt when she's around him. Suddenly, it doesn't matter that everything is going wrong. Scorpius is there, and he's silly enough that she feels like everything will be okay.

"What are you doing home anyway?" he asks, smirking when Rose gives in reaches into a nearby bag and plucks out a sugar cookie. "I thought you were gone for the weekend."

Rose rolls her eyes. "Apparently there's some loophole that says that junior members can't present their work," she grumbles. "Only senior members can. It's bullshit."

"Utter bullshit," Scorpius agrees. "Wankers."

It isn't fair. Rose had put so much time and energy into it, and now she probably won't even get the credit. In the end, she isn't important enough, and she will have to settle for crumbs of gratitude and recognition.

"Doesn't matter, though," Rose says.

"Oh? And why is that?"

Rose leans in, pressing a kiss to Scorpius' forehead. "Because I have you." As she pulls away, she manages to snatch the curry container from him, smirking. "And now I have lunch."


	53. Work (GeorgeSeamus)

_Word Count: 367_

* * *

Seamus takes a deep breath when he walks in and finds George hunched over a cauldron, his eyes swollen shut and his face covered with thin burns. "Do I even want to ask?" He does, of course. That's one thing about dating someone as mischievous and wild as George Weasley; he just _has_ to know what sort of mad scheme his partner has fallen into this time.

"Passion Fashion," George says, holding up a pocket watch that's smudged with charcoal grey fingerprints. He sets it aside before lifting a silver pendant. "Each accessory will have a special kind of potion in it, and its fumes will attract the wearer's chosen person."

Seamus raises his brows, amused and intrigued. "I read somewhere that potion fumes aren't effective."

George shrugs and scoops up a ladle full of the bright pink potion. Seemingly dissatisfied, he drops the ladle and pulls out his wand, Vanishing the contents. "Don't believe everything you read."

Seamus shrugs. He's spent enough time working at St. Mungo's, and he's studied the effectiveness of various potions, so he has a fair amount of knowledge on the subject. Still, he knows his boyfriend doesn't want to listen to logic. Whenever George works, he becomes consumed by it. All Seamus can do is sit back and wait for him to come around again. It's tiring and can be frustrating, but Seamus doesn't mind it most days.

"Right. Well, you go get washed up," he says. "I'll get dinner started."

George looks up at him. He clears his throat, and a blush creeps into his dirty, freckled cheeks. "With all due respect, I'm gonna completely ignore everything you just said."

Seamus scowls and folds his arms over his chest. "Oi! My cooking's not that bad, is it?"

George climbs to his feet and dusts himself off. He moves closer, offering Seamus a bright but apologetic smile. "It's not that your food is _bad._ Just… a bit inedible."

"That's terrible!"

"Yeah, well…"

Seamus deflates slightly and pushes a hand through his sandy blond hair. "Fine. Wash up, and we can pop out and get some kebabs."

George closes the distance between them and presses a quick kiss to his forehead. "Perfect."


	54. First Times

_For Amanda, EdgarFabian, dinner and a movie_

 _Word Count: 970_

Edgar feels nervous when he reaches the little house on the outskirts of town. He knows it shouldn't be a big deal. This is hardly the first time he and Fabian have gone on a date. Still, his heart flutters as he reaches the rock path that leads to Fabian's house. This is the first time he's been invited over. That's such a big step.

He takes a deep breath and wrings his hands together. It doesn't stop him from trembling with nerves and excitement. "You're being ridiculous," he mutters, navy blue eyes rolling. "Acting like a giddy schoolgirl."

It's just a date. He's being silly and reading too much into.

"Gonna just stand there and keep my brother waiting?"

Edgar shakes his head, bringing himself back to reality. He notices Gideon standing before him, dressed for a night on the town. "Er… Sorry," he mutters, his cheeks burning. "Big plans tonight?"

Gideon's chocolate brown eyes twinkle with amusement. He offers Edgar a bright, toothy smile. "Not as big as your plans, I'm sure." He winks. "You'd best be off. Don't have too much fun, though."

Edgar's stomach twists itself into painful knots. He swallows dryly, but it feels like there's a lump in his throat that won't go away. For several moments, all he can do is open and close his mouth mutely, unable to form a coherent sentence. By the time he manages to say, "What's that supposed to mean?", Gideon is gone.

He thinks that maybe he understands. He and Fabian have been dating for a year now. They've grown closer during their Order missions, and yet they've always managed to tiptoe around intimacy. Over the past year, they've rarely done anything more than share a few innocent kisses. Is it possible that Fabian wants to change that? Shouldn't they have at least discussed it first? Then again, Fabian seems to thrive on impulse and spontaneity. It may not have even crossed his mind that proper etiquette calls for at least a brief conversation about the matter.

Edgar's blush returns, and it feels as though his face has caught fire. He doesn't want to keep thinking about this. If he does, he will probably lose his nerve and run away.

Nodding to himself, like that can strengthen his conviction somehow, Edgar holds his head high and begins the short trek to the house. Fabian is waiting for him in the doorway, grinning. "About time you got here," he teases when Edgar reaches the steps. "I thought you might spend the whole evening camping outside."

"Er… Sorry about that. So… A date, then?"

Fabian snorts and rakes his fingers through his shaggy red hair. "Yeah. That's what we've been doing for the last year. We are boyfriends, you know."

"I know that." Edgar scrubs his palm over the back of his neck.

"Come on in. Dinner is nearly ready."

…

"I never would have thought you could cook," Edgar says as he sets his fork down.

The chicken and potatoes had been nothing short of perfect. Now, Edgar's stomach feels like it might burst.

"Well, Molly made it clear that she was not going to be cooking for us once we got older." His lips quirk into a pitiful pout. "Lucky for me, she did teach us."

"Luckily."

Fabian climbs to his feet. "I hope you saved room for dessert," he says. "Figured it will pair well with my big surprise."

Surprise? Edgar feels the lump return to his throat, and nerves overtake him once again. "What sort of surprise?"

"The sort that's waiting for you in the living room."

The room seems to spin. Living room? He had imagined his first time would be in a bedroom.

"Hey." Fabian rests his hand on Edgar's shoulder. "You okay? Did you eat too much?"

"I don't want to have sex with you."

Fabian's brows raise. He looks more confused than hurt, so Edgar thinks that he might have misread the situation. "Good. I mean… No offense, but I wasn't planning on having sex with you tonight."

"You… You weren't?" Edgar feels relief flood through his veins. He visibly relaxes, offering his boyfriend an awkward smile. "Well, I've just made a fool of myself."

The other man snorts. "Just a bit."

"So… What's the surprise?"

…

Fabian sets the cake on the coffee table and makes his way toward the strange box with bizarre ropes poking out of it. "This is a television," he explains. "My brother-in-law is crazy about Muggles, and he helped me find an enchanted one. Also, an enchanted VCR."

"What does it do?"

Fabian explains the concept of films as he looks through a small pile of weird black rectangles. "Muggles like to do dinner and a movie, so I thought maybe we could give it a try."

"Fascinating. Almost like Muggles figured out a way to make enchanted paintings work for their own entertainment." Edgar lets out an impressed whistle. "Muggles are interesting, aren't they."

"Absolutely. Now, let's see… _Star Wars._ That sounds stupid. Stars don't know how to fight. Oh! _The Wizard of Oz._ Anyone you know?"

Edgar shakes his head. "Never heard of him. But if Muggles know him…" He frowns. "We should watch it and see what they know."

"Good plan."

Edgar takes a seat on the couch as Fabian puts the rectangle into another box. Sure enough, the larger box lights up, and people appear inside it. "It looks so real," he says as Fabian reaches him and curls up beside him.

As they lay together, watching the people on the television and eating one of the finest cakes Edgar has ever eaten, he can't help but to smile. He had been so nervous only hours before. Now, he feels perfectly calm and okay, and he finds himself thinking that this must be better than sex.


	55. Present Tense (Rabdromeda)

_Word Count: 878_

* * *

Andromeda hates Azkaban. The chill in the air, the overwhelming sense of dread that hangs over her. She would much rather be anywhere than here. Really, she doesn't _have_ to be here. Her husband is waiting for her, and she has a life to get back to.

A life that doesn't involve Rabastan Lestrange. A life that she has built on her own.

And yet she can't bring herself to turn back. She wraps her arms around herself, as though she's trying to keep herself from falling apart. Maybe she is. Merlin knows she had truly believed that she had put him out of her mind years ago. Then again, even if she's a terrible liar, Andromeda has always been so good at lying to herself.

"Mrs. Tonks." The Auror that meets her greets her with a bright smile that seems so out of place in the prison. "We've diverted the Dementors away from the cell. However, I will be nearby if you need me. Just give me a shout."

Andromeda swallows dryly. She manages to give the Auror a small, shaky smile.

Visiting in Azkaban is, more or less, unheard of. Andromeda had had to pull every string she could and throw around her family's influence. She may have been blasted off the tapestry, but she is still a Black, and some people still take that very seriously.

Rabastan is kept separated from her, but she could reach out and touch. It breaks her heart.

She shakes her head. This isn't about her feelings; this is about closure.

"You look beautiful," Rabastan tells her.

And he looks rough. Once, he had been handsome with his neatly trimmed dark hair and brown-black eyes. Now, his skin is sickly pale and his hair is a matted mess. Somehow, he still manages to smile when he sees her, like she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Azkaban hasn't changed that. It's how he's looked at her since they had been children.

"Why so quiet, Andi?" he smiles at her. "You used to love me once."

Her breath catches. _Used to._

…

 _They are six when they first meet. Their father has business with Joseph Lestrange, and Andromeda and Bellatrix are allowed to come with him._

 _Rabastan stands in the parlor, watching them shyly and clinging to his teddy bear. "Can we be friends?" he asks._

 _Andromeda grins. She's never had friends other than Bella and Cissy, but they don't really count because they're her sisters. "I'm Andromeda," she says. "But you can call me Andi."_

…

 _They are ten when he takes her by the hand. "Father's parties are always so boring," he tells her._

 _She knows she should stay there. Her parents expect her and hers sisters to be good and obedient, but Rabastan is right. It_ is _boring._

 _She allows him to lead her outside and to the garden. The Lestrange's garden is huge and so much prettier than the one her mother grows. The air is perfumed, and there is an array of colors, and Andromeda thinks she could stay here forever._

" _It's pretty," she says._

" _So are you."_

 _He kisses her on her cheek, and she blushes. Years later, she still thinks about that moment._

…

 _They're fourteen and curled up on the couch in the common room. "What are we?" she asks._

 _They've never given it a name. Maybe they aren't really anything. Maybe they'll always just be Rabastan and Andromeda, the friends who sometimes kiss and may be in love._

 _Rabastan shrugs. "I just know I love you."_

 _She takes a deep breath. She's knows that she loves him since they were kids, and she's always assumed he feels the same way. Still, actually hearing him say it makes her shiver._

" _I love you too."_

 _And that is enough._

…

 _They're sixteen when Rabastan asks her to marry him. Tradition states that his father should arrange something with her father, but it doesn't matter. They are young and in love, and nothing can break them._

…

 _They're sixteen when she sees the Dark Mark._

" _It's hardly a big deal," he says._

" _It is a big deal, Rab! How do you not see that?"_

 _They've been raised with the same basic morals, but she has learned to overcome them. She knows that blood purity means nothing in the long run._

" _You'll come around." He folds his arms over his chest, smirking. "Come on, Andi. You love me."_

" _I do," she confirms. "That's why this hurts so much."_

 _She walks away, and she never looks back._

…

"That's the problem, you know," she says, resting her palm against the bars that keep them separated.

Rabastan mirrors her movement. How is it possible that she can still remember exactly what his touch feels like, even though it has been years. "What is?" he asks.

"I never stopped loving you."

There's so much that she wants to say, but she cannot bring herself to do it. Andromeda offers him a polite bow of her head, and then she leaves.

She still loves him. Maybe she'll never stop. Regardless, Rabastan is her past, and she knows she has to leave him in the past so that she can move forward.

Little by little, it gets easier each day.


	56. Public (BlaiseTheo)

_Word Count: 687_

* * *

"I'm glad you invited me," Theo says, grinning as they enter Slughorn's office.

Blaise nods, lips twitching into a faint smile. He hates these little parties, but, as a Zabini, he is expected to show up and put on a show. Bringing Theo makes him feel a little safer, though he hates that he has to drop his boyfriend's hand and pretend they are just friends.

He hates to admit it, but he is a bloody coward, and he's so afraid of doing anything that might destroy his family's reputation. Loving Theo in private, in the dark is easy. Being brave enough to do it in public? Blaise is afraid that he may never have that sort of strength.

"Fancy a drink?" Theo asks, pushing a hand through his fair hair, cheeks stained a soft pink.

Blaise clears his throat and nods. "I'd love one."

He's being ridiculous, and he knows it. They've spent four years hiding their love and putting on a show. Theo is just as scared as he is, but he's also infinitely more reckless. Theo would be the one to slip up and show the world who they are.

And that terrifies him.

Blaise watches as a fifth year Hufflepuff stops Theo. She smiles so brightly at him, and Blaise can see the desire in her dark eyes. Of course, he can hardly blame her. To anyone else, Theo is an eligible bachelor, a boy who is free for the taking. He's not, though, and the jealousy burns Blaise's insides.

Why should this girl be able to flirt with him so openly? It isn't fair! He loves Theo, and he should be able to…

He shakes his head, but it isn't enough to shake the thoughts. Without even meaning to, he begins to move closer. In the back of his mind, he knows this is a giant mistake, and he's being foolish, but he doesn't care. His veins are hot with jealousy and anger and closes the distance easily.

"Blaise! Was just about to bring you a drink," Theo says before holding up a triangular sandwich. "Have you tried these? Mindy was just telling me about how good they are."

"I need to speak to you." He glares at the younger girl. "In private."

Theo raises his brows. "Your tone seems very pointed right now," he observes, but he doesn't protest. With a shrug, he gestures for Blaise to lead the way.

Blaise hates this. He isn't a jealous bloke, and he doesn't want to admit that he's giving in to that dark, stupid voice in his head. But it's too late to turn back now. He's dug his own grave, and now he has to lie in it.

The corridor is mercifully empty. Still, Blaise grabs Theo by the hand and marches him a little further until they find a secluded spot.

"What was going to come next?" Blaise snaps. "Were you going to shove your tongue down _Mindy's_ throat?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Merlin! You could have at least had the decency to do things behind my back. I'm not blind."

Theo stares at him. For several moments, he seems unable to do anything more than blink in confusion. "I… Wait… You thought I had something for her?" He snorts. "You really think I'm like that? I pity you."

"Never asked for your pity. Just your loyalty," Blaise says darkly.

"You bloody idiot! She asked if I was there with someone. I told her yes, my boyfriend!" He scrubs his palm over his face, letting out a frustrated groan. "Am I scared of being out? Absolutely. But I will not let my fear rule my life, Blaise! Maybe you should stop being such a bloody coward and just give it a chance."

"Oh."

He really has been an idiot. He's always so quick to get defensive, so afraid of what might happen. Is it really possible that they could be public, that they could be accepted.

"Can we try again?" Blaise asks.

Theo considers for a moment. Finally, he nods and takes Blaise's hand. "Only if you don't let go."

And Blaise doesn't.


	57. Waiting Game (AntoninMolly)

_Word Count: 410_

* * *

"What about this?" Antonin asks, holding up a swatch of mustard yellow fabric."Perfect for a robe, isn't it?"

He holds the fabric against his arm and nods his approval. It really makes his skin look nice. Molly will love it!

Madam Malkin shakes her head. "You, dear boy, are moonstruck," she says. "Show up wearing that, and your beloved will never take you seriously."

Antonin huffs. Though he wants to protest, he resists the urge. Madam Malkin has been doing this for years; she's bound to know more about it than he does.

She steps closer, holding up a shimmery black material. "Yes, this will make a fine cloak," she says, nodding. "See how elegant you look?"

Honestly, there's nothing wrong with it, but it doesn't make him like as opulent as he wants. If he's going to lure Molly away from that Weasley fool, she'll need to realize exactly how wealthy and powerful he is. The black is too simple to get his desires across. He waves the seamstress away.

She returns only moments later, and he thinks he has found the one. Now, it seems silly that he would ever entertain the idea of mustard yellow. Madam Malkin drapes the gorgeous emerald material over him, and Antonin feels powerful.

Madam Malkin smiles, almost triumphantly. "Any girl who would deny you in that is a fool," she declares.

Antonin nods his agreement. "I'll take it."

…

He catches Molly on her way back home. She doesn't look happy to see him.

"Thought I told you to leave me alone," she says, scowling.

"You didn't really mean that."

Molly's scowl only deepens. She quickens her pace, but Antonin keeps up with her easily. She's just playing hard to get. He's had plenty of experience with girls like her before. Eventually, she'll realize that he's perfect for her.

"I assure," she says, "I meant it."

He reaches out and catches her by the wrist. She goes tense and pulls out his grip, but she doesn't run off. That's good, at least.

"I want to give you the world, Molly," he says. "Why won't you let me?"

"You have nothing that I want," she says. "Excuse me."

This is a game that they play time and time again. One day, she will understand what she means to him. She will give in, and he will be there, ready to welcome her with open arms.

All he has to do is wait.


	58. Pink Leather (SiriusPeter)

_Word Count:_ 373

* * *

"I'm not wearing that," Peter says flatly.

Sirius pouts, and Peter hates it. In his heart, he knows he could never deny his lover anything. Still, he has to put on a show and pretend, especially since his boyfriend's latest off-the-wall idea is that Peter should wear a hot pink leather jacket.

"It's the only jacket the shop had," Sirius insists with a shrug. "You can't go out in this weather without a proper jacket."

Peter glances out the window. The snow is still falling. Even though Sirius has only been here for a few minutes, his motorbike has accumulated a small layer of fluffy white coldness.

"I'll look like a clown in that."

"We're all a bunch of clowns." Sirius rolls his eyes. "Don't tell me you haven't realized that yet."

It really isn't fair. Why is Peter actually considering wearing that hideous thing? He's always hated pink, and that particular shade is one of the greatest eyesores he's ever seen. It should be illegal for Sirius to use his charm like this.

"My horoscope was right." Sirius shakes his head and lets out a dramatic sigh. He leans against the door, folding his arms over his chest. "It said to expect trouble with a loved one. I never would have thought it would be you, Wormy."

Peter rolls his eyes. Sometimes he wonders why he continues to put up with Sirius. But then his boyfriend smiles, and it's enough to make Peter melt. It doesn't matter how ridiculous Sirius is; Peter still loves him, and nothing could ever change that.

"Fine." He holds his hand out, grudgingly gesturing for Sirius to hand it over.

The triumphant smirk on the other man's lips is simultaneously the cutest and most annoying thing Peter has ever seen. Sirius drapes the offensively bright jacket over Peter's arm. "Go on! Try it on."

Peter does. The jacket fits perfectly, and he can't help but admire it. Even if it _is,_ hideous, it's still comfortable.

"Perfect!" Sirius leans in, lips brushing against Peter's ear. "Now, since you've been such a good sport, I might let you have me for dessert when we get back."

Peter once again thinks how unfair it is, but he can't resist Sirius.


	59. Quiet (Perciver)

_For Amanda via Gift Tag_

 _Word Count: 712_

* * *

Oliver paces restlessly. Percy tries to ignore him and keep his attention focused on the book in his lap, but his boyfriend is too distracting. "Oliver, please," he says, glancing up and adjusting his glasses. "Can you sit down? You're making me nervous."

Oliver scowls, but his lips quickly transform into a pitiful pout. He gestures toward the window. Rain continues to mercilessly pelt the glass as a storm rages on. "We have a match against Slytherin next!" he insists, his tone sharp and desperate, as though that's enough of a reason to risk his well-being in order to train.

Percy sighs and returns his attention to his book. Anything he says to Oliver will only make things worse. His boyfriend is too stubborn to listen to reason, so Percy contents himself to sitting in front of the fireplace, curled up beneath a sky blue blanket his mum had made him when he was six, and read. The warmth of the fire is much more preferable to the cold rain outside. His trek back to castle from Herbology that morning had been absolutely miserable. He doesn't understand why Oliver would actually want to get back out in it.

"Just keep reading," Oliver huffs, dramatically collapsing on the couch and draping his legs over Percy's lap, covering the book. "You're Percy Weasley, and books are your best friend."

Percy exhales heavily. Oliver can be a real prick when he's restless. He thinks that maybe the Keeper has too much nervous energy, and if he doesn't let it out by flying and training and whatever the hell else he does, he might be completely intolerable.

"They've held matches in weather worse than this!" Oliver insists. "And McGonagall won't even let us _practice!_ Ridiculous, isn't it?"

"Oliver," Percy says calmly, carefully freeing his book from beneath his boyfriend's leg, "I love you, but if you don't let me read in peace, I swear–"

"Looks like the honeymoon is over, doesn't it, Fred?"

Percy groans and looks up. Sure enough, the twins have joined them in their little corner of the common room. Fred and George wear identical grins as they stand there and stare, as if they're watching some dramatic scene play out.

"Ah, it was only a matter of time," Fred says, shaking his head. "You know our Percy is a pain in the arse."

George chuckles. "Shame, that. They make such a lovely couple."

He's had enough. Percy shifts Oliver's legs around and climbs to his feet, jerking his blanket up and draping it over his shoulder. "One day of peace and quiet," he says. "That's all I ever ask for. One. Bloody. Day."

He doesn't wait for anyone to comment. Without another word, he tucks his book beneath his arm and stalks off upstairs and into his dormitory.

…

It isn't quite as warm and cozy in his dormitory, but it's quiet, at least. Percy sits on his bed, reading. He would much rather be cuddling by the fireplace and forgetting that there's a book to read at all, but all hopes of that have been ruined.

He sighs and checks his watch. It's been two hours since he'd stormed out of the common room, and Oliver hasn't checked in. Maybe Percy can't blame him. He definitely could have handled that whole ordeal better.

As if summoned by Percy's thoughts, the door to the room opens, and Oliver sheepishly pokes his head in. "Mind if I come in?"

Percy's cheeks flood with heat. He nods, unable to speak. Suddenly, he feels foolish.

"Look, I'm sorry for driving you mad," Oliver says. "I just get so stir-crazy."

Percy nods and climbs to his feet. He hesitates, unsure how to approach, if he even should. "I shouldn't have gotten so upset," he says. "That was silly of me."

He's sure Fred and George will spend the next month or so reminding him that he's a giant prat. Really, he can't get his feelings hurt over it; he deserves it.

"Common room is empty," Oliver says. "There's a spot in front of the fireplace that's perfect for curling up with a book."

Percy shakes his head and reaches out, taking Oliver gently by the hand. "I think I would rather spend some time with you."


	60. Learning (LysanderFredii)

_Word Count: 366_

* * *

"Well, someone certainly looks extra ebullient today," Lysander says as he joins Fred at their usual table in Charms class.

Fred rolls his eyes, but he can't resist the smile that plays at his lips. "Look at you with your fancy words," he teases. "You think you're clever, don't you?"

His boyfriend shrugs before grabbing the cushion they're using for Summoning practice. "To be fair," he says, positioning the cushion at the end of the table before returning to Fred's side, "I am rather brilliant."

Fred snorts. "So modest too," he says.

It's funny how Lysander manages to change everything. Once, Fred had despised Charms. He's always struggled with it, preferring Transfiguration instead. Lysander makes everything better, though. He always wears the brightest smile, and he never judged Fred for struggling to master a Charm.

" _Accio!_ " Fred calls, but the cushion barely even twitches.

"Not quite." Lysander's slender fingers wrap around Fred's wrist. He guides him along, teaching him the motions with an easy that Flitwick could never quite manage. "See? Your movement was a bit too wild."

Fred snorts. He turns his head to the side so that he can offer his boyfriend a cheeky grin. "What can I say? I'm a wild one."

Lysander rolls his eyes and releases him. "Ebullient," he says again, shaking his head. "Did you get hit by a Cheering Charm this morning?"

"What are you talking about? I'm always cheerful."

Maybe it isn't the whole truth. Though Fred tends to have a bright and sunny disposition overall, he is definitely guilty of getting irritated over Charms. Still, it's one of the few times he gets to see Lysander without everyone trying to get in their business. If that isn't worth celebrating, he doesn't know what is.

" _Accio!_ " He mimics Lysander's movement, and the cushion comes flying at him. Grinning, he turns and hugs his boyfriend. "I did it."

"Well done."

"Yes, well it helps to have a teacher who is as cute as he is helpful."

Lysander chuckles. "I'm sure Flitwick will be glad to know you think he's so attractive."

And as the class goes on, Fred finds himself smiling more and more. Maybe Charms isn't so bad.


	61. Addiction (RegulusPeter)

_Word Count: 343_

* * *

Regulus sits, taking another drag from his cigarette and exhales a cloud of smoke. Peter sits across from him, unwrapping another Chocolate Frog before popping the sweet into his mouth.

"It's funny, isn't it?" Regulus muses, tapping his filter and sending a flurry of ash drifting to the ground. "We both have our addictions. Maybe that's why I like you so much."

"I'm not addicted to anything," Peter says with defensive sniff.

Regulus snorts, grey eyes flickering over his lover. He has met plenty of addicts in his time, but Peter outshines them all. There's the obvious addiction, of course. Peter is seldom seen without some sort of snack. Maybe that addiction is fueled by stress; who knows?

But there's something so much more subtle. Regulus doubts many have noticed. He knows Peter is unaware of it, but Regulus has seen it. Peter is addicted to fitting in and being loved. It's simultaneously pathetic and absolutely adorable. He's seen the way Peter looks at his friends, so desperate for them to notice him. They don't, not really.

Regulus does. Loving Peter is like being a god. Peter is always so eager to worship, to show that he is worthy of time and attention. He has followed Regulus so willingly into hell, and the Dark Mark on his arm is proof of it.

Regulus crushes his cigarette and tosses the butt aside. His sleepless eyes are fixed upon the horizon. Dawn is breaking, and a new day has come.

"I'm not an addict," Peter says flatly.

Regulus smirks and leans in closer. The newest Chocolate Frog, still in its wrapper, falls to the floor, and Peter shivers. "You know that isn't quite true," Regulus murmurs, slender fingers tangling in the other man's fair hair.

He captures Peter's lips in a quick kiss before pulling away with a satisfied smirk. Peter shakes and shivers, and it's so obvious that he needs more of Regulus.

"You're addicted to me." Regulus climbs to his feet and reaches down, offering Peter his hand. "Come on. We should sleep."


	62. Baking Disaster (DeanPiers)

_Elemental Magic, task 3: Write about someone getting burned_

 _Word Count: 695_

* * *

Piers doesn't understand what he's done wrong. He's watched his cousin make cookies countless times, and he should be able to do it! Like Max, he had measured every ingredient with care–" _Remember! Baking isn't like cooking. You have to be precise, or it will be a disaster."–_ and he mixed them and shaped them exactly as he'd seen Max do. The temperature is right, and he can't think of anything he's done wrong.

And yet smoke spills from the oven, and he's more than a little sure that the cookies might catch on fire at any given moment. Swearing under his breath, he opens the oven door, coughing as the acrid smoke finds its way into his lungs. He reaches in and screams the moment bare flesh touches hot metal.

Piers jerks his hand back, staring in horror as the angry red skin begins to blister. "Dean!"

Within seconds, his boyfriend is by his side, and Piers is thankful that Dean has a level head on his shoulders. "Water," Dean instructs, guiding Piers to the sink. "Did you forget that ovens get hot?"

Piers rolls his eyes. "Apparently." He hisses when the water hits his burnt skin.

"Just hold it under until I can tend to you," Dean says, slipping on the grey-and-white checkered oven mitts and pulling out the baking tray.

It's just as bad as Piers had thought. Instead of warm, gooey, golden-brown goodness, all he can see is a blackened mess of something that even the most desperate person would never consider edible. "Oops?"

Dean snorts. "Indeed," he says, setting the tragic baking attempt on the stove. "What were you even doing?"

"Baking." Piers' cheeks heat with warm color as he shrugs. "I thought I would make dessert. Now, don't you have some amazing elixir that's going to fix me up?"

The other man shakes his head, plump lips twitching into an amused smile. "Dessert?" he asks. "Really?"

"Shut up."

Piers still has trouble expressing his softer side. He's spent years learning from Max, and Dean has been a tremendous help. Still, it can be hard when he's spent so long building a hard reputation.

"I think it's sweet." Dean closes the distance between them and presses a gentle kiss to Piers' lips. "Come on. Let's get you fixed up."

Piers winces. The water feels so good against his blistered skin, and he is terrified to move. Sucking in a deep breath, he turns the tap off and pulls his hand away. The heat returns almost immediately, and tears sting Piers' eyes. "Son of a bitch!"

Dean is gentle with him, and it makes it easier to relax. Piers allows his boyfriend to guide him to the table and examine the burn that covers just under half of his palm. "Oven mitts," Dean says firmly. "Please don't forget."

"Yeah, yeah."

Dean draws his wand and summons a white container. Piers can't help but feel a little disappointed. He always expects Dean to have some ornate, intricately designed potion vials like he sees in films. Instead, it's plain and wouldn't be out of place at any regular pharmacy.

Dean dips his finger in, scooping up a fair amount of orange paste before smearing it over Piers' palm. The relief is almost instantaneous. "You'll be good as new in no time," he says, leaning in and examining Piers' skin for any spot he might have missed. "No pain, no scars."

Piers stares at the orange goop, fascinated by it. He will never understand magic, but he's grateful for it. "Right." He climbs to his feet and makes his way to the freezer. "No cookies, but dessert is still happening!"

"We haven't even eaten dinner yet…"

With a broad grin on his lips, Piers opens the freezer and pulls out a tub of vanilla ice cream. "After what I went through today, I think I've earned the right to have ice cream for dinner," he says stubbornly.

Dean rolls his eyes but doesn't argue. Still grinning, Piers grabs two spoons and sits at the table. He may be a disaster in the kitchen, but it doesn't matter. Everything works itself out in the end.


	63. Hope Among Pain (NevilleHannah)

_Word Count: 368_

* * *

"It's strange, isn't it?"

Neville is half asleep in the Great Hall when the voice snaps him back to reality. He blinks slowly, groaning and groggy. Lips twisting into an apologetic smile, he turns, heat flooding his cheeks when he notices Hannah is sitting beside him. "Sorry," he says sheepishly. "What's strange?"

She smiles at him, and it's enough to make him melt. Really, it's unfair for someone to look so lovely and disheveled all at once. She lifts a slender hand and gestures around.

The castle is in ruins, a painful reminder that the war had been real and they had survived. It breaks his heart to look at. Wall have collapsed in some areas; stained glass is scattered across the the floor in others. There's so much pain and suffering all around them as people cling to their loved ones and mourn those who have fallen.

Neville swallows dryly. He had spent so long leading Dumbledore's Army, so afraid that he was setting everyone up to die. Of course, some _did_ die. He can still so perfectly imagine Colin in his arms.

It's a miracle any of them are still here. Even in the middle of battle, he'd had his doubts.

"It's like the war was our whole lives," Hannah says, resting her hand on his. "Well, for a while, I guess it was. What do we do now?"

And he suddenly realizes why this is so strange. Neville isn't a leader anymore. The war is over, and that should be the end of it. Hannah should be off with Susan, Ernie, and Justin, celebrating. They should go their separate ways.

But here she is. In the middle of all the chaos, she has chosen him, and he is suddenly very aware of her touch.

He swallows again, heart racing. "We find our normalcy again," he says.

She laughs, and it's amazing that there's no bitterness in the soft sound. "I don't know what normal is anymore."

He shifts his hand ever so slightly so that his fingers lace with hers. "Maybe we can figure that out together."

"I think I'd like that."

There's chaos all around them, but maybe there's also hope beneath it all.


	64. Games (OliverFred)

_Word Count: 371_

* * *

"Can you please stop that?" Oliver groans, looking up from his notes and glaring at his boyfriend. "I'm trying to strategize!"

Fred doesn't look particularly impressed. He smirks, laying out a few Exploding Snap cards. Oliver tenses instinctively, waiting for the imminent explosion; nothing happens this time, but it does nothing to set his mind at ease.

"Can't you relax for like five minutes, Wood?" Fred asks, adding the cards back into the stack and shuffling them. There's something hypnotic about the way he moves so nimbly and skillfully. "You've always got your nose shoved in a book, screaming about strategy. It's like I'm dating _Percy!"_

Oliver huffs indignantly, smoothing his hands over his shirt. He knows he gets a bit obsessive, and he used to tease Percy about his passion for note-taking. It's like karma has come back to bite him. Now he's the one being teased. Still, he doesn't plan to back down.

"I'm a Quidditch player, Fred," he insists. "I get paid to focus on Quidditch."

Fred sets the cards down. One explodes within seconds of being set down, narrowly missing Fred's finger. "You're not a captain anymore, Oliver," he reminds him, moving closer and wrapping his arms around the older man. "Do you know what that means?"

Oliver groans. He can already see it Fred's face that he's going to use logic. Arguing with Fred when he's being his usual mischievous, ridiculous self is easy. When Fred actually applies himself fully and acknowledges that life isn't a joke, however, it's infinitely more difficult.

"It means that it isn't your job to stress about who does what and when and why." Fred presses a kiss to his cheek. "Do you even remember what it's like to relax?"

Truthfully, he doesn't. Oliver has spent years with this restless energy. It's what's made him into the Quidditch player he is today.

Fred steps back and slips his hand into Oliver's. "Come on. One game of Exploding Snap," he says. "If I win, we go out for ice cream, and you chill out."

Oliver accepts it. He knows Fred is better at the game, but maybe he doesn't care. Maybe all he needs is a break to make everything better again.


	65. Meant For More (LilyAlice)

_Word Count: 507_

* * *

"You can do this," Lily says. "I believe in you."

Alice almost smiles at that. At least Lily has faith. Truth be told, Alice has spent a lot of time doubting her own abilities lately. She's tried and tried, but the Patronus Charm still manages to escape her. Maybe she's just being too hard on herself, but she feels like a failure. How the hell is she going to become an Auror if she can't even accomplish a Patronus?

Lily is patient and kind, and Alice loves her even more for it. It isn't easy sometimes. Alice is so used to perfection, and it kills her to struggle with anything.

Lily rests her hands on Alice's shoulders, and Alice relaxes at the touch. It's so easy to feel peaceful around her girlfriend. Whenever Lily is around, there is no panic and fear, and she feels like maybe things are going to be okay.

"You've got too much going on," Lily says, pressing a soft kiss to Alice's cheek. "Maybe I'm a distraction."

"Nope. Definitely not."

With a laugh, Lily releases her shoulders and steps in front of her. A mischievous grin plays at her lips. "Really? Are you sure? I can always get Black to tutor you."

Alice shudders. "Absolutely not." She loves Sirius like a brother, but he treats everything like it's one giant joke. She can only imagine how disastrous this would be.

"If you're sure." Lily winks before backing away. "Let's try again."

It's easier said than done. Alice is supposed to focus on her happiest memory, but how can she choose? Nothing seems to be strong enough. Coming to Hogwarts, meeting Lily, falling in love. Try as she might, nothing will make her Patronus appear.

She closes her eyes. When was she the happiest?

A faint memory flickers, and warmth rushes over her.

 _She is seven and it's a simpler time. There's an injured squirrel along the road. Her mother tells her to leave alone, that it's just a sad part of life, but Alice won't accept that. She kneels beside the pitiful creature._

It had been the first time she had felt like she could do anything. It's been nearly a decade since that day, and she can still recall how happy she had been as her touch had mended the squirrel's broken leg.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ "

The silvery mist erupts from her wand, slowly taking form. A small laugh escapes her lips when she sees the silver squirrel staring back at her.

"Fitting," she says with a shrug.

Lily's arms are around her in an instant. "A squirrel, huh? I always fancied you as a bird of some sort," she says before kissing Alice gently. "I'm proud of you."

"I did it." Somehow, it's still so hard for her to wrap her head around, but she's grinning with pride all the same.

She's struggled for so long, but, with her girlfriend's help, she has finally prevailed. It's the second time in her life she's felt like she's truly meant for something more.


	66. Date Night (PenelopeLucy)

_Word Count: 424_

* * *

"Does it ever bother you?" Lucy asks, tugging anxiously at her strawberry blonde hair.

Penelope raises her brows, a small, amused smile on her lips. "You'll have to be more specific," she says with a soft chuckle.

The faint pink that stains the younger witch's cheeks is too adorable. Penelope has to force herself to focus on her girlfriend.

"I don't want to get married," Lucy says.

"Neither do I."

It's a strange to realize as she got older. She's spent so long hearing about how men and women are supposed to get married, and she had tricked herself into believing she wanted it as well. It hadn't been until she was in her twenties, four years after realizing she's a lesbian, that she had come to terms with the fact that society wants her to get married, and she hadn't stopped to wonder what _she_ actually wanted.

"Oh." Lucy is all smiles again. She adjusts the strap of her red dress. "Okay then."

"A gillywater for you," Madam Rosmerta says, setting the drink in front of Lucy. "And a glass of elderflower wine for you."

Lucy wrinkles her nose. "My dad drinks that."

"Who do you think introduced him to it?"

Lucy's cheerful demeanor fades again. Sometimes Penelope forgets how awkward it must be for the younger woman. She and Percy had ended things on such good terms. When she and Lucy had revealed their relationship, Percy had been okay with it, if a bit baffled. Still, it has to be weird knowing your partner had dated your dad.

Penelope leans in. Lucy's perfume smells so good, and all she can do is smile for several moments. "I'm sorry," she murmurs. "Was it weird of me?"

"A little bit."

"I'm working on it."

"I know."

Penelope leans back again, sighing. "Come on," she says, digging in her purse and setting a few Knuts and Sickles on the table.

"Where are we going?" Lucy asks, frowning but quickly finishes her gillywater and climbs to her feet.

With a grin, Penelope takes her hand. "Home," she says simply.

The younger woman frowns but doesn't protest. "I thought we were having a date night."

Penelope nods. "We are," she confirms, "but I can't show you how much you mean to me in public."

A blush creeps into Lucy's freckled cheeks. "Oh!"

"Indeed."

As Penelope leads her away, she can't help but smile to herself. Their relationship is so unconventional and may seem strange to others, but it doesn't matter. It is theirs, and she loves it.


	67. The Best Thing (GilderoyMyrtle)

_Battleship: dialogue only_

 _Word Count: 531_

* * *

"What are you doing here?"

"You're Myrtle, aren't you? I'm Gilderoy."

"Am I supposed to be impressed? You're just another dumb boy here to terrorize me!"

"What? No! Why would I terrorize you?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask all your little friends? Oh, they love coming in here and teasing me. Horrid little prats, the lot of you!"

"I… I actually don't have any friends, Myrtle."

"Oh."

"This may seem mad, but… I dunno… Would you maybe want to be my friend?"

"Gilderoy, is it?"

"Yeah."

"I think you and I will get along swimmingly."

…

"Does dying hurt?"

"Gilderoy! You can't just go around asking personal questions like that! It's rude."

"Sorry."

"I don't know the answer, anyway. I don't remember. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno. Sometimes I think I want to die. I'm so average that it's painful. What's the point of me?"

"I don't think you're average."

"Thanks, Myrtle."

"I think… It might sound silly, but… I adore you."

"Really? I think you're pretty amazing."

"I hope you decide to keep living. I mean, it _would_ be nice to have more friendly ghosts around, but I like you alive."

"I'll keep that in mind. I promise."

…

"I don't get it. Why am I the only one who sees you're beautiful?"

"Are you sure you haven't gone blind, Gilderoy?"

"I mean it. I am completely enamored! It's been two years, and I… Merlin, everything I want to say sounds so flimsy! I love you, Myrtle."

"You know how mad that is, don't you?"

"Why? Because you're a ghost and I'm not?"

"Yes. That's exactly it, Gilderoy. Whatever we feel for each other… It won't last. You have a life to live, and you'll go on and do amazing things. Me? I'm here. I'll be here until the end of time. I have nothing to offer you."

"So, you feel it too?"

"After everything I've said, that's what you got from it? You're hopeless."

"Hopelessly in love with you, yes."

"I think you should leave."

"I'm sorry… What?"

"It's for the best, Gilderoy. Just go, okay?"

"If that's how you feel…"

…

"It's my last day, you know."

"Gilderoy?"

"Sorry… I'm being a twat, but I just got rather nostalgic, and I… I wanted to see you one last time, Myrtle. I know it's been a few years. I stayed away, but I want to say goodbye. Will you let me do that? Please?"

"I missed you."

"I assure you, I missed you more."

"Hogwarts is over for you? What are you going to do now?"

"I'm not sure. Most people seem to have everything planned out. But me… I'm an idiot."

"Liar. You're brilliant."

"Oh, Myrtle… If only the rest of the world could be as kind as you are."

"I'm not that kind."

"But you are. I hate that you can't see how amazing you are. I was thinking last night, and you know what I realized? The best thing that's ever happened to me is you."

"I feel the same way."

"I really do love you, Myrtle."

"This may be the last time I get to say it, so… I love you, Gilderoy."


	68. Dance the Night Away (SeamusLavender)

_Word Count:_ 376

* * *

Seamus wishes he could stop feeling so bloody nervous. Maybe it's the dress robes. Having to wear something so formal is taking its toll, and he thinks he might go mad.

"You look nice," Lavender says.

Seamus doubts it. He feels so stiff and ridiculous, and he imagines it shows. Still, Lavender doesn't seem to mind, and it takes every ounce of restraint to not swoon. "Not as nice as you," he says, grinning. "I think you're beautiful."

A soft pink blush paints her cheeks, and Seamus feels himself melting. He resists the urge to kiss her right there on the spot. It's still early, and this is only their first date. There's no need to rush anything.

"Would you like to dance?" she asks.

He feels like an idiot. As the bloke, he ought to be the one asking her. He opens and closes his mouth several times, words seeming to fail him. Cheeks glowing with heat, shuts his mouth firmly and nods, offering her his hand. Lavender accepts it and leads him onto the dance floor.

"You don't have to be nervous," she says, taking the lead. "I don't bite."

Seamus chuckles. "Who says I'm nervous?" he asks, though his voice quivers and betrays his nerves.

She smiles at that, and it makes her whole face light up. Somehow, she becomes even more beautiful. "I know you, Shay," she reminds him. "You forget how to function when you're nervous."

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice," he admits.

She doesn't respond for several moments. Instead, she moves gracefully, guiding him along in a waltz. Seamus has never been much of a dancer, but it feels so natural with her, like they've always been meant to do this.

"There we go," she says at last. "Now you're starting to relax."

She's right. The tension has faded from his body, and everything just feels perfect, like his whole life has lead up to this moment. He smiles. "All thanks to you."

"I'm the reason you're both flustered and calm," she muses with a dazzling grin. "What does that say about me?"

"That you're perfect."

"I'll take it."

And as they dance the night away, everything just feels so right. Seamus never wants the Yule Ball to end.


	69. Peaceful (GeorgeAngelina)

_Word Count: 533_

* * *

It's a quiet night. Freddy is finally asleep, and this is the most peaceful the cottage has felt in a long time. With a small smile forming on her lips, Angelina uncorks the wine and pours herself a generous amount. She pours a second cup, though she's much more modest with George's. He's gotten better since those dark days, but she doesn't want to risk it.

"Hey, you."

She looks up, grinning when she sees her husband. George closes the distance between them and leans down, kissing her gently.

"Did I miss the memo that it was date night?" he asks with a soft laugh.

Angelina chuckles and lifts her glass, taking a sip before setting it down again. "It's spontaneous," she says.

"Spontaneous," George echoes. "Remember when that meant more along the lines of opening a joke shop and catering to people wanting to make fun Moldy Ole Voldy?" He sips his wine. "Now it means hoping our kid sleeps long enough that we can have a few moments together."

"We got old."

It's still so bizarre to her. In those dark days, she had been so sure that they wouldn't make it out alive. It had been the most hopeless and helpless she had ever felt. Now, that weight has long since been lifted, and yet she still finds it hard to breathe in the freedom that surrounds them.

She leans her head back, dark eyes fixed upon the stars that glitter and twinkle overhead. "Did you ever think we would make it?" she asks. "To here, I mean. Whatever _here_ is."

"No," George admits. "But I'm glad I did."

Angelina sighs, still watching the stars. "Look at me," she says. "It's supposed to be our date night, and I've made everything so dark and heavy."

George shifts until he's beside her. His hand rests on her thigh, fingers absently caressing the exposed skin. "You're still healing too," he reminds her. "After everything we lost, it would be a miracle if we were all perfectly fine right now."

Angelina sets her wine aside and wraps an arm around her husband, curling closer to him. It's amazing how much things have changed, how the world continues to turn. Life isn't what she had imagined it would be, but she knows she wouldn't have traded even a second of it for the world.

"Shooting star," George says, and Angelina looks up just in time to see the radiant burst of light streak across the sky. "What did you wish for?"

She giggles and pulls away. "If you tell a wish, it won't come true," she says, trying not to laugh at his mock pout.

The truth is, she hadn't wished for anything. Their life is perfect as it is. Only one thing could make it better, but she knows that wishes, like magic, cannot bring back the dead.

"I love you," she says softly.

He leans in, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the corners of her lips. "I love you too."

There are still bad days, but mostly there are great ones like tonight. For one moment, hand in hand beneath the stars, it's like the war never touched them at all.


	70. Something New (ChoMarietta)

_Word Count: 414_

* * *

Cho stares in horror as Marietta brings her the monstrosity. She can tell the ice cream is flavored like candy floss, judging by the shade of pink that matches her favorite sweet. That, in and of itself, is perfectly fine; candy floss is her absolute favorite. The horror comes from the chocolate splattered over the perfectly good ice cream, and the various sweets that top it. Licorice wands, Bertie Botts' Beans, Chocolate Frogs.

"I thought we could split it," Marietta says with a bright smile as she sets the bowl down and rests two spoons in the frozen monstrosity. "I think you'll really like it."

Cho has her doubts. She remembers Florean Fortescue having the best ice cream imaginable. This new ice cream parlor seems to be trying too hard to be interesting, as though pushing the boundaries of flavor is their only option.

"What is that?" she asks.

"Your favorite."

It's a betrayal of her favorite. The fact that she can see that beautiful candy floss-pink beneath all the extras only breaks her heart further. It's like being so close to achieving your goal, only to come across some impossible barrier.

"Are you okay?" Marietta asks, dark brows knitting together. A frown plays at her lips as she reaches out, gently taking taking Cho's hand. "You look upset."

Cho shakes her head and offers her girlfriend a bright, reassuring smile. She knows she's being ridiculous. It's just ice cream; it's hardly the end of the world. "It just seems a bit much," she answers softly before giving Marietta's hand a squeeze and letting go.

"I know. You're more of a classic kind of girl, but a little change won't hurt."

Cho supposes this is true enough. Her life has been nothing but dramatic change after dramatic change. Maybe something simpler will be a relief. With a smile, she dips her spoon into the ice cream. The chocolate shell crunches and cracks, and it's unnerving to watch the beans roll into the candy floss-pink creamy goodness below. All she can do is hope that, if she ends up with a bean in a bite, it will be a compatible flavor.

The chocolate throws her off a bit, but it isn't terrible; it's just different. There's still that beautiful, familiar flavor beneath it all.

"See?" Marietta grins triumphantly. "I told you it was good."

"Yeah, yeah."

Changes are good. Changes are what led her to Marietta in the end. Maybe Cho can roll with it.


	71. The Right Thing (PadmaMorag)

_For Auction:_ _PadmaMorag_

 _Word Count: 508_

* * *

"Have you seen Padma?" Morag asks, crystal blue eyes widening when Terry enters the dormitory.

She knows it's Dumbledore's Army that keeps her girlfriend away most nights. Though Morag doesn't condone what the Carrows are doing at Hogwarts, she is too afraid to join the fight against them. After all, who's to stop them from deciding half-blood is close enough to Muggleborn?

"She should be back by now," Terry says, lips twisting into a deep frown. "She left before me."

And that's enough to make her blood run cold. Morag is on her feet in an instant, her cat falling unceremoniously to the floor with an irritated yowl. She has always prided herself on her Ravenclaw wisdom, but there is no place for thought now. Impulse takes over, and she walks past Terry.

"Where are you going?" Terry demands. "The Carrows are patrolling with a vengeance tonight."

That's exactly what moves her forward. Her own safety doesn't matter. All she thinks of is her girlfriend.

"Wait," Terry says, hurrying over. "We all take different routes. Let me tell you hers."

…

Morag has never really broken a rule in her entire Hogwarts career. At least, she's never done anything that would earn her a detention. This is foreign territory; she cannot keep from shaking as she makes her way down the staircase and through the corridor. Every little sound in the distance makes her heart race, so afraid the Carrows are waiting for her in the shadows.

She's near the next staircase when she hears the soft, pitiful groan. Morag moves closer, heart breaking. Padma is slumped against the wall, bruised and battered.

"Carrows…" Her voice is thin, weak, and her left eye is swollen shut.

"Let's get you to the common room," Morag says, taking care not to touch any of her rooms.

Going to Madam Pomfrey is too risky. The Carrows monitor who they hurt. They like their victims to wear their wounds as a warning. Anyone who receives healing only gets it worse.

"You… came for me," Padma whispers as they move, keeping to the shadows for protection.

"Of course I did." She presses a kiss to her girlfriend's temple. "I love you."

"I'm glad you do."

…

The most they can do is relieve her pain. Mandy keeps a small supply of potions for that very purpose, and it takes only minutes for Padma to drift off to sleep. Morag remains at her side, fingers trailing gently along Padma's arm.

She has been smart and played it safe. Now, that isn't an option. If war means being able to keep her loved one safe, she will fight. It's terrifying, and the logical part of her brain wants to refuse. Laying low keeps her safe. Neutrality means she doesn't have to fear for her life.

But it also means she is helpless and cannot protect Padma. It doesn't matter if it's rash, or if her mother would tell her she's behaving like a Gryffindor. There's no logic behind doing what's right. There is only action.


	72. Wild (AbraxasDruella)

_For Auction:_ _Abraxas Malfoy_

 _Word Count: 607_

* * *

Druella loves it when the common room is all but empty. So many prefer to sneak and and find some shadowy nook away from prying eyes, but she has learned that there is privacy if you wait long enough. By midnight, everyone is in bed, except for her and a grinning, blue-eyed boy who is stretched out in his favorite chair.

Her heart races. She loves the way Abraxas holds himself like he is king of the world. Perhaps it is to be expected from a Malfoy; they, along with the Blacks, are the closest thing the wizarding world will have to royalty, and they have no problem showing it.

His posture relaxes when she approaches. "And here I thought you had forgotten me," he says, tone light and teasing.

Druella laughs. "As if I could," she counters with a small smirk.

She glances over her shoulder, checking one last time to make sure no one is around who might see. Even though they are not doing anything inappropriate, they are still a boy and a girl, and it is considered downright scandalous for her to be in his presence without her brother Algernon as chaperone. She is a Rosier, and she should know better; somehow, she doesn't really care about her family's reputation because Abraxas is there, and he is so much more important than her honor.

His lips quirk, nose wrinkling as he smiles. "Are you just going to stand there, my love?" he asks. "I've gotten awfully lonely waiting up for you."

Blushing, Druella shakes her head and sits in the chair beside him. There is still a small distance between them, but he slides his chair closer, reaching out and taking her hand gently in his. The touch makes her shiver. It's amazing that they've been doing this for three years, and even the smallest touches manage to set her soul on fire. She wonders if it will be like this for the rest their lives, and if he will the one her father chooses as her husband.

Abraxas lifts his hand, delicate fingers caressing her pale cheek. "I've missed you," he tells her.

A coy smile plays her her lips. She pulls his hand to her mouth and presses a kiss to his knuckles. "I've missed you too," she says, kissing his wrist and delighting in the way he squirms.

"You are most unladylike tonight," he murmurs, but there is no chastisement in his voice, only amusement and desire.

"You've never accused me of being a lady," she says sweetly.

"What would your mother say?"

Druella pulls away, plump lips twisting into a scowl. "Probably that I bring shame to the name Rosier," she guesses.

Abraxas laughs softly, reaching out and resting his palm against the back of her neck and gently guiding her closer until their lips are inches apart. "I would be the greatest honor to let you bring shame to my name."

He leans in closer, and her breath catches. No one else will ever excite her like this. There is so much joy and fun in the anticipation that the kiss itself hardly matters at all.

And then their lips meet, and everything feels so right. Maybe she can taste her future on his lips, because all she knows is she wants to do this until the end of time.

It has to be him. No one else cares for her the way he does or makes her feel so wanted and loved. So many men seek to tame their brides, but she thinks Abraxas would leave her wild.

She only hopes luck will be on her side.


	73. Accidentally (GeorgeSeamus)

_For Auction:_ _GeorgeSeamus_

 _Word Count:_ 424

* * *

He doesn't mean to fall in love.

…

He's sick with grief. Fred has been dead for only a few hours, and George doesn't understand why the world is still spinning. It's supposed to be the end of the world. Even if they're victorious, the world should erupt in flames.

His family is distraught. He should stay and comfort them, but he can't. Instead, George walks away, ignoring his mother's pleas for him to stay.

He can't. Seeing them cry and curse and beg for things to be different is too much. He wants to be alone in his sorrow.

And yet he ends up in a crowded pub.

Seamus looks just as lost and afraid, and George sits across from him.

"Dean is dead."

George frowns. Too many people have been lost. Dean is just another good one.

"My boyfriend," Seamus says, "is dead."

…

He doesn't know how it happens. It starts with a drink, then two, then maybe they might be more comfortable drinking in private above the joke shop. Seamus seems all too happy to get away. Maybe they're too close to the place where the tragedy happened; maybe he just needs someone.

They're halfway through a bottle of firewhiskey when Seamus kisses him. George thinks that maybe he should stop him. He's only ever kissed girls before, and he doesn't think he's gay, but Seamus' lips feel right.

"I'm sorry," Seamus whispers, cheeks flushing dark red as he pulls away.

George should tell him it's okay. They should not off and call it a drunken mistake that happened because they are both emotional wrecks. Instead, he kisses Seamus and whispers, "I don't mind."

…

It becomes a whirlwind of drinks and kisses and maybe something else. George is afraid to voice it, to even think that anyone could care for him.

But he has Seamus, and they spend months together, learning to heal, learning to move on.

…

It's a sober night. Seamus proudly prepares George a bowl of stew and grins. "What do you think?"

"It's perfect," George says. "Just like you."

He will never get tired of the way Seamus blushes at even the smallest compliment.

…

"I love you," Seamus says.

And it's the greatest relief. Hearing those words makes it feel like a weight has been lifted. George kisses him gently. "I love you too."

…

He doesn't mean to fall in love. In the midst of grief and mourning is inappropriate, and maybe he should feel guilty.

Instead, he's glad that he has Seamus.


	74. Walk Away (DeanPiers)

_Honey, I'll come get my things, but I can't let go.- Lorde_

Piers is disappointed, but, if he's honest, he isn't surprised. This is just who and what he is: a failure, and idiot who finds a way to screw everything up. It's always been this way. He had made the mistake of getting close to Dean and letting himself fall in love. Now, everything has fallen apart; Piers is still too rough around the edges, and he doesn't deserve someone as good and pure as Dean.

It really is his fault. He had been so afraid of being loved that he had panicked and pushed Dean away. Of course Dean wouldn't stay with him anymore, not after Piers had sabotaged himself.

He hesitates, swallowing dryly as he fishes the key out of his coat pocket. It doesn't feel like he should unlock it himself. This is no longer his home; he is little more than a guest now. And yet he can't bring himself to knock. Knocking means this is real, Dean is no longer his, and the world is truly crashing around him.

After debating with himself for at least a minute, he slides the key into the lock and turns it before opening the door. The house is still the same. Of course it would be. It's only been a week since the breakup, and Dean isn't the type to just change everything up so suddenly.

"Thought you might ring first." Dean stands in the hallway, holding the West Ham coffee mug Piers bought him for Christmas. "I would have made plans to be elsewhere."

Piers winces. "Good to see you too, Dean," he says bitterly.

He deserves this, but that doesn't mean he can't hate it. Dean has every right to be angry, to not want to be around him. He reminds himself of this again and again, but it doesn't take away the hurt.

This is the worst part. He keeps his head held high as he walks through the house he's shared with Dean for two years until he reaches the bedroom. Dean has already packed Piers' things for him. The sight of the boxes makes a lump form in his throat. He swallows it down, but it does no good. This is it; their relationship is really and truly over.

Piers will not beg and plead. Even though he wants things to be different, he knows this is for the best. Dean will be able to move on and heal, and everyone will be better off. He'll accept this because he has to. He'll take his belongings and pile them in the back of Dudley's car, and he'll figure this all out somehow.

But he knows he can't let go. They've been building and trying, and they had been so close to having something beautiful. Piers' insecurities had destroyed it.

He lifts the first box and carefully makes his way down the hall. Dean is waiting by the door. His expression is softer as his dark eyes rest on Piers. "I really hope you find happiness, Piers," he says. "I'm just sorry it wasn't with me."


	75. New Start (KingsleyAlecto)

_Word Count: 460_

* * *

There's a flash of thunder out his window when Kingsley opens his eyes. He groans, blinking rapidly and trying to pull himself out of the sleepy haze. What had woken him? A nightmare? Thunder?

There's a knock at the door, and it makes sense. Kingsley checks his clock on the bedside table. Two in the morning is an unusual time for company. Things may be more lax during the summer, and he might have people over until late, but no one ever shows up without warning.

Curious, he climbs to his feet and makes his way to the living room. The knocking grows to urgent pounding. Kingsley opens it.

Alecto stands before him, red hair matted against her pale face with rain. She's drenched and shivering, but there's a strange fear in her eyes.

"Alecto, what's wrong?"

It's amazing how easily the softness comes. They haven't been lovers since their Hogwarts days, and yet this feels so natural. He's always knows she has a good heart; if not for her brother, she might not have ever joined the Death Eaters.

"Can I come in?"

He doesn't even hesitate. He steps aside, drawing his wand only to cast a drying charm on her as she passes. "Would you like anything to eat or drink?"

In the back of his mind, he knows how dangerous this is. Whatever they might have had in the past doesn't matter. She is still a Death Eater, and they are enemies. And yet there's something so genuine, so painful about the vulnerability in her eyes.

She sheds her dark blue cloak, draping it over the couch before closing the distance between them. Her arms wrap around him, and she kisses him.

In that moment, nothing matters. They are sixteen again, and the world isn't such a dark and twisted place.

"I want out," she says when she pulls away. "This life isn't for me. I'm not a monster. I'm really a very gentle person."

"I know."

How could he forget their days at Hogwarts, so young and in love. She had been so soft, so kind. Now, he sees that in her again. This is the Alecto he knows and loves.

"Can you help me? I… I don't know what to do, but I know you're with Dumbledore." She takes his hand gently in her own, squeezing it softly. "I want to change my life. I'm the only one who can do that, but I need your help."

All fears and concerns melt away. This is not a trick or a trap; this is the woman he has never stopped loving, and this is and chance for a new start. "Of course."

Their lips meet again, and he holds her close. Love has found a way.


	76. Hero (DaphnePansy)

_Word Count: 365_

* * *

Pansy is surprised to walk into chaos in the dormitory. Tracey is red in the face, and her fingers curl inward to form knuckle-whitening fists. Her dark eyes narrow at Daphne. Through it all, Daphne remains as calm as can be. She sits on her bed, flipping through a book. If she's bothered by their roommate's anger, she doesn't show it.

"Return my property!" Tracey snaps, lunging.

Without a thought, Pansy grabs Tracey by her shirt, pulling her back. "What the hell is going on?" she demands.

"Greengrass stole my scarf," Tracey insists, struggling against Pansy's grip.

Daphne snorts, still reading and unaffected by the chaos. "I didn't," she says simply.

"You're a terrible liar!" Tracey says. "You've always been jealous of me."

"I would call that an exaggeration, but there isn't even a seed of truth in that statement." Daphne turns the page. "Are you done?"

Before Tracey can answer, Pansy pushes her toward the door. "Take a walk," she says. "You're stupid when you're angry."

Tracey opens her mouth to respond but just huffs. With one last glare in Daphne's direction, she stalks off.

"I've never met anyone with that much darkness in her heart," Daphne notes.

"I wouldn't call it darkness." Pansy sits beside Daphne on the bed, grateful for the chance to be alone with her. It feels like it's been too long since they've had their stolen little moments together. She just hates that it's immediately after drama.

Daphne sets her book aside, smiling. "You didn't have to defend me," she says.

Pansy laughs, tucking her black hair behind her ear. "She was about to introduce her firsts to your face," she says dryly, shaking her head. "I had to intervene."

Daphne considers this in silence for several seconds. Her lips tug into a perfectly glossed smile as she leans in, wrapping her slender arms around Pansy. "My hero."

Pansy's cheeks glow with warmth. _Hero._ It isn't a title she would ever give herself. Slytherins are not meant to be heroes; that honor is reserved for Gryffindors. But hearing it from Daphne makes her feel like maybe she could be worthy, like maybe she could be a hero after all.


	77. Secrets and Reputation (ChoPetunia)

_Word Count: 389_

* * *

Cho can't take her eyes off the gold wedding band on Petunia's finger. This is so beyond wrong, and yet she can't seem to stay away. Petunia is married. Weirder still, she is Harry Potter's aunt.

And yet, here they are.

"Something bothering you?" the older woman asks.

Cho shakes her head, taking a sip of her coffee to keep from having to reply aloud.

She hadn't meant to fall in love. After the war, she and some others had been tasked with helping the Dursleys adjust to life after being in hiding for so long. Cho and Petunia had hit it off easily enough. Little meetings for counseling grew into something new, something more intimate, until they finally shared their first kiss.

It's been a mess ever since. They've found places to hide away from prying eyes, and they've managed to pretend that this is okay, that they can do this. But it feels like the world is spinning a bit too fast, and Cho doesn't know how to handle it anymore.

"It's the ring, isn't it?" Petunia taps a finger against the band. "I've told you before that I haven't loved Vernon in a very long time."

It's a reassurance she hears during each meeting. Maybe Cho should believe her, but it seems strange.

"Why don't you divorce him?" she asks quietly.

The older woman's cheeks glow a soft red. She looks away, staring off into the crowd for several seconds. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she returns her attention to Cho once more. "A divorce might kill my reputation."

It sounds silly, but Cho doesn't laugh. She remembers feeling that way in school. At least she grew out of caring about what people thought of her. Petunia seems to cling to it like it's some sort of armor.

She doesn't understand why a grown woman would let her reputation get in the way of happiness and chance for love. It's something for schoolgirls to worry about.

And yet she doesn't really care. Maybe they'll never be able to have the sort of romantic love that Cho wants. Maybe their love will always be hiding away in crowded shops and being each other's little secret.

It doesn't matter.

Cho takes Petunia's hand and guides it closer, gently kissing her knuckles.

All that matters is she has these beautiful moments.


	78. More Than Friends (TeddyVictoire)

_Word Count: 402_

* * *

Victoire looks so beautiful as she walks along the beach in her sea green bikini. The breeze whips her strawberry blonde hair about her face, and Teddy is awestruck. She turns to look at him, cardinal red painted lips pulling into a teasing grin. "Come on, slowpoke."

Returning her grin, he quickens his pace, easily catching up to her. "Please forgive me," he says, ruffling her hair affectionately. "I didn't mean to keep the princess waiting."

She scowls at that, but her annoyance doesn't seem to last for long. Slender fingers graze over Teddy's face, and he shivers despite the warm air. "What are you thinking?" she asks. "You're always so quiet, so mysterious."

He swallows dryly. What is he thinking? He's afraid the answer might get him in trouble or ruin their friendship.

She's his best friend, but he's started looking at her as someone who could be something more. Maybe it's ridiculous, but he thinks that maybe he's falling in love with her. He's young, but that doesn't matter; he knows he cares about Victoire more than anything, and he would follow her to the ends of the world.

"Teddy?"

He shakes his head, turquoise hair thumping against his heated cheeks. Instead of answering, he says, "Last one in the water is a pile of hippogriff dung!"

A confused laugh escapes her lips. Teddy rushes past her, wading into the water until it reaches his navel. Victoire follows along, shaking her head. "See? This is what I mean," she says, folding her arms over her chest. "There's no way of knowing what's going on in your head."

He shrugs. "Maybe it's better that way."

Her brows raise, and she steps closer, resting a hand on his arm. "I don't think so," she tells him. "Come on… We're best friends, right?"

"Right. But…" He takes a deep breath. It doesn't help; he still trembles with nerves. "Maybe we could be something more."

He waits for the fallout. It's stupid. She would never look at him like that, and he's wasting his time. They'll only ever be best friends, and he should be content with that. Now, Victoire will think he's pathetic.

Instead, she moves closer and stands on her tiptoes. The kiss is quick and chaste, but it speaks volumes. He isn't the only one who has been harboring a secret crush.

"I think we could be something more," she says.


	79. The Future (ArthurNarcissa)

_Word Count: 434_

* * *

Narcissa pulls out the ornate silver mirror from her pocket and opens it, carefully studying her reflection as she swipes lipstick across her lips. It's silly. She doesn't get dolled up for anyone. What would her family say if they knew she was making herself all pretty for Arthur Weasley?

They aren't even going on a date. As much as she would like to be open and honest about her relationship, she has too much to lose. Naricssa knows it is her duty to her family to uphold their honor; it comes before her own happiness.

With a sigh, she puts away the mirror and lipstick and turns her attention to teacup. It's the perfect excuse. If anyone catches them, she can always say she's helping Arthur learn to read tea leaves since Hogwarts doesn't offer Divination lessons.

The door opens, and Arthur smiles shyly at her. A soft blush stains his cheeks and swallows his freckles. It's endearing how he always seems to get so flustered when he sees her. "Read my fortune," he requests as he closes the door and makes his way over, sitting across from her.

Narcissa grins. It's something her mother has taught her, but she doesn't bother with it now. Instead, she just goes through the motions. "I see a beautiful blonde in your future," she says teasingly.

"And what about long-term?"

Her grin fades. She hates that it always seems to come back to this. Arthur is lucky because he can choose who he wants to marry; he can take control who he wants to marry. Narcissa doesn't have that luxury.

"I know what you're thinking." He reaches across the table and takes her hand in his. "We don't have to walk away. We could be happy."

She doesn't doubt that. Arthur makes her happier than anyone or anything else in this world. There's something beautiful about his innocence and kindness. No one else has ever treated Narcissa so well.

But she knows they can't last. They've always been destined to crash and burn, but she's chosen to turn a blind eye and pretend the end wasn't inevitable.

She does what she does best. Instead of acknowledging it and trying to find a way, she sweeps it under the rug like it will solve itself. With a smile, she pushes the readily tak the side and leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Let's not worry about the future for now."

Maybe one day, she'll have to stop hiding and face the truth. For now, however, she has Arthur, and she doesn't need anything else.


	80. When You're Sober (RogerPercy)

_Word Count:_ 388

* * *

It's heartbreaking to see Percy like this. Roger sits in his booth, watching the older man, a frown on his lips. After the war, alcoholism seemed to skyrocket. It makes sense, of course; everyone is struggling to cope and adapt. Percy lost his little brother, actually watched it happen, and that has to leave a nasty mark.

The once uptight and collected Gryffindor is a mess now. He's slumped over on his stool, resting against the bar. With a sigh, Roger climbs to his feet and makes his way over. "Hey, Percy."

Percy looks up at him with bloodshot eyes. His glasses are crooked and slipping, but he doesn't seem to care. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?" he asks, words slurring so badly it takes Roger a moment to understand.

"You're drunk," Roger says, nervously raking his nail over the gold frames of his sunglasses that are tucked neatly in his shirt. "Let's get you home."

Percy just smiles and giggles, and it hurts even more. This is a man who always had a bright future ahead of him. Now, he seems to be spiraling. Of course, he can come back from it and still so amazing things, but everything seems so hopeless at the moment.

"I can't stand up."

Roger is grateful for all his Quidditch training. His upper body strength makes it easy to lift person and support his weight. The drunk man wraps his arms around Roger, grinning.

"You're cute, Davies."

Roger sighs. Under ordinary circumstances, it would make his day. He's always had a thing for Percy, though he never would have dared to admit it in school. Unfortunately, Percy is drunk and out of it, and Roger suspects he doesn't really know what he's saying. "Do you know where you live?" he asks.

Percy just giggles some more.

"We'll get you a room at the Leaky Cauldron, okay?"

…

Once everything is squared away, Roger lingers in the hotel room. He's tempted to stay the night, make himself comfortable in the chair, and watch over him. Instead, he leaves a note explaining everything and inviting Percy to lunch the next day.

"See if you still think I'm so cute when you're sober," he says as Percy snores, oblivious to everything.

And with that, he leaves, hoping for the best.


	81. Growing in Love (AntoninPansy)

_Word Count: 522_

* * *

 _They tell her it's an honor. Marrying someone as important as Antonin Dolohov makes her special._

 _"I don't want to be special." Pansy folds her arms over her chest and pouts because it always works on her father. "I want to fall in love."_

 _He scoffs at that. "Love is for children," he tells her. "I owe that man a debt."_

 _And there are no more arguments on the matter. A date is announced, and she is swept into the whirlwind of preparing for a marriage she doesn't want. Maybe she should be grateful. After the Dark Lord's victory, marrying a Death Eater is a good fate, compared to others._

 _It isn't enough. She just wants to be loved._

…

She sits in the garden. This is her favorite spot. There's something peaceful about being surrounded by colorful, fragrant flowers.

Her fingers work slowly and skillfully, taking special care as she ties the flower stems together, forming a crown. It has become her favorite hobby. Antonin has given her a garden, and she loves it more than anything.

"You're quite good at that."

She glances up at her husband, offering him a small smile. "My mother taught me when I was a kid," she explains.

Antonin sits beside her on the wooden bench. He rests a hand on her swollen stomach. "You can teach our daughter."

Pansy rests her head on his shoulder. "I would like that."

…

 _She doesn't intend to fall in love. In her eyes, he is a brute, a disgrace, and he is so far beneath her. She would much rather be married to Draco, but Astoria Greengrass has won his favor._

 _But Antonin proves her wrong. He is softer, kinder than she could have imagined. He is gentle with her, and he makes her feel safe._

 _"Why did you choose me?" she asks as the two of them sit by the fireplace and sip wine together._

 _Antonin laughs softly. "Why wouldn't I choose you?"_

 _The question is almost laughable. Maybe she hadn't been the kindest person in school, but the others had been just as nasty to her. How may insults had she endured? How often had she forced herself to hold her head high and pretend that cruel words and jabs at her appearance don't bother her?_

 _But she can't help believing him, and it makes her fall a little bit._

 _Somehow, it isn't such a bad thing._

…

"Are you happy?" he asks, grinning as she adorns his head with the flower crown.

The funny thing is she doesn't have to think about it or pause to process her emotions. When her fate had been decided, she had been so sure it was the end of the world, that she would live a miserable life and never know love or happiness.

Now, however, she has everything she could have ever wanted. Her husband treats her like an equal. They have a beautiful home with a vibrant garden. Their daughter will be born in a month.

"More than happy," she assures him, pressing a kiss to his chin.

And she knows her happiness will only grow.


	82. Happiest (CygnusDruella)

_word count: 305_

* * *

She still can't believe it's happened. Druella has always considered herself to be some sort of freak, not the type of person any man would want to marry. And yet here she is, standing hand in hand with Cygnus. Against all odds, she has found someone to love her for the rest of her days.

"Dance with me," he says.

Without waiting for an answer, he guides her onto the floor. All other part for them, allowing them to become the center of attention. Druella loves it.

Cygnus leads her in a graceful waltz. Her surprise must show, because he just grins at her. "Were you expecting anything less from someone as perfect as me?" he asks.

"Perfect," she laughs, freeing her hand long enough to gently prod a bronze button on his suit. "You drool in your sleep. I would call that a flaw."

"And you would be wrong. All real men drool in their sleep."

He's ridiculous, but she chooses not to press the matter. Instead, as the music slows, she moves closer to him, smiling. "I always hoped it would be you," she tells him, her voice barely above a whisper. "I knew in my heart who I wanted."

"How fortunate for me."

Cygnus leads her back through the crowd and to the table. Balloons adorn the centerpieces, and Druella can't help smiling at how something so simple somehow manages to look so elegant. The house-elves have really outdone themselves.

"Are you happy, my love?" he asks, pulling out her chair.

Druella smiles. It's such a silly question. Today has been the greatest day of her life. She has finally done her duty to her family, and her wildest dream has come true. How could anyone in her shoes find something to be unhappy about?

"I'm the happiest woman in the world."


	83. An Answer At Last (SeamusLavender)

_Word Count: 521_

* * *

Lavender loves the pumpkin patch on the school grounds. Even when the world is falling apart and the Carrows are changing Hogwarts into their own hellish playground, there's something comforting about the pumpkin patch. Despite everything, she smiles as she walks along the vines, observing the pumpkins that have grown a little more since her last visit.

"Why do you like this place so much?" Seamus appears at the edge of the patch, studying her with raised brows. "You don't seem like the gardening type."

"I'm terrible at Herbology," Lavender confirms, chuckling.

Seamus makes his way through the dirt and vines, slowing to a stop when he reaches her. "Well? What is it about the pumpkins? You don't even like pumpkin…"

It's true enough. Maybe it isn't the pumpkin she doesn't like, but the spices. It doesn't matter, though. The beautiful array of orange a yellowish-white are what she loves. They're a beautiful reminder that things still grow when the world turns bleak.

"I like to come here to think," she answers, shrugging her slender shoulders. "It's peaceful. Best of all, it's far enough away from the castle that there aren't any prying eyes."

He grins at that and steps closer. "You're clever. Who knew?"

She rolls her eyes. If anyone else had said it, she would probably slap them, but she knows Seamus better than that. He's a good bloke, and he loves to tease. "I'm more than just a pretty face," she says, gently prodding her finger into his chest.

He sighs, deflating slightly and hunching forward. Lavender stares, confused. She wonders if she's done something wrong. It seems like everyone's emotions are wonky since the school year started.

"Do you think there's a point to this anymore?" he asks, and the heaviness in his tone breaks her heart. "I know we're supposed to believe in Harry, but…"

Silence.

Lavender takes his hand, squeezing gently. Things are confusing now, and it seems like no one really knows what to do. She wants to still trust that Harry will show up, and all this will be over, but it's halfway through October, and Harry and his friends have been silent. Seamus isn't the only one losing faith in him; she's seen the doubt in others' eyes. Harry Potter has abandoned them all.

Maybe that should be their sign to give up the fight, but she can't. It's why she proudly joins Neville and the others in the Room of Requirement, slowly piecing Dumbledore's Army back together. She remembers a time when they were strong, and she knows they will find a way to get back to that somehow.

"Keep holding on," she says. "It's not over, and we'll figure this out. Together."

 _Together._ That seems to be the magic word. Seamus' eyes brighten, and he leans in.

She's always known it would come to this. They've been dancing this dance for so long. _Will they or won't they_ has always hung over their heads, but they've always avoided the question. Now, as the world continues to crash and burn, they have their answer.

"Together," he echoes as their lips meet.


	84. Those Eyes (ColinLuna)

_Word Count: 688_

* * *

The first thing Colin notices are her eyes, which is a bit of a shock. Luna Lovegood is covered, head to toe, in vines and leaves, and she holds a set of reed pipes. Several people who pass laugh and giggle as they point at her, but Colin is captivated by her silvery eyes. He walks closer. "What are you doing?"

She looks up at him, smiling brightly. "Daddy says that if you disguise yourself as a bunch of vines and play the right tune on the pipes, Bangledock Pluffkers will come."

Colin doesn't know what a Bangledock Pluffker is; he wonders if it's his Muggleborn ignorance or Luna's reported strangeness. Either way, he's drawn in. "What's the tune?" he asks.

She lifts the pipes to her lips. "I don't know," she admits before playing a series of shrill notes that makes Colin cover his ears.

Still, as strange as it all is, he wants to get to know her better.

…

Luna Lovegood is bizarre, and he loves it.

"Wait!" She drops to her knees, quickly collecting a small brown spider from Colin's path before he can step on it.

"Most people would have wanted it dead."

She considers this with a frown as she moves the arachnid to the side and sets him free. "Humans _are the_ cruelest animals," she says.

And he thinks it's silly and such a weird way of thinking, but her eyes twinkle when she says it, and that's enough to make him agree.

…

They lay together near the stream beside her house.

"Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas," she says. "Forever."

He doesn't know where she gets things like that from, but he doesn't question it. She is good and kind, and her eyes have won his heart so long ago. She can think whatever she wants.

…

No one else comes to his birthday party except Luna, but that's okay. She smiles when he leads her to the kitchen for cake and ice cream.

"I would be careful with those," she says, nodding toward the balloons in Gryffindor gold and scarlet. "They attract nargles."

"Balloons attract nargles?"

In the three years that he's known her, Colin has been able to learn and keep up with the strange things Luna loves and believes. It seems he knows everything about nargles now, though she still manages to surprise him with new information.

"They do."

They aren't real, but he doesn't care. As always, her eyes light up when she talks about things she loves, and it makes him fall a little more.

…

"You'll see," Dennis tells him, grinning eagerly as he pushes Colin along. "It'll go perfectly."

Colin has his doubts. Luna has opened his eyes to the impossible, but even this is hard to believe. Why would anyone want to go out with him? There's nothing special about him at all.

But he can't seem to stop himself. Grateful for his brother's encouragement, he makes his way to where Luna sits beneath a tree and reads the latest issue of the Quibbler. "Hey…" He clears his throat and wrings his hands together. Why do films make this look so easy. "Hey, Luna?"

She looks up at him, and her silvery eyes nearly stop his heart. Why is she so lovely?

"Oh, hello, Colin," she says brightly. "Is something the matter? Your cheeks are quite red."

It's such a causal observation with no malicious intent, but it makes Colin want to melt into a puddle and disappear forever. "No. Everything is fine," he murmurs, already regretting listening to his little brother. "Er… Our first Hogsmeade trip is this weekend. I was wondering… Would you maybe… Can I take you on a date?"

At least he knows Luna will let him down gently when she rejects him. It's such a small comfort, but he clings to it.

"A date?" She rips her head to the side. "I've never been on a date before."

"Neither have I," he says.

Her eyes light up, as they so often do when she's excited about something. "I'm glad to be your first date."


	85. Figure It Out (GilderoyPoppy)

_Word Count: 327_

* * *

Most days, visiting Gilderoy hurts. Though he is growing stronger, he still isn't himself. Sometimes, he doesn't even recognize Poppy. His blue eyes seem to look right through her, as though she doesn't exist at all.

"Have you bought me a refill?" he asks, offering her a bright smile as he lifts an empty can of Diet Coke. "Healer Morris says I can have two cans a day."

And Poppy's heart breaks a little more. She wants to tell him that, even though she's a Healer, she isn't _his_ Healer. Not in that sense, at least. Instead, she smiles. "Of course, dear."

…

There are days when he is focused and alert, and he smiles at her like she's the best thing in the room.

"These are my favorite color, you know," he says, jerking lightly against the ribbon attached to the the orange balloons.

"I know."

"You're beautiful."

And she doesn't know why his words hurt. She should relish the sweetness that comes through despite the madness that has gripped his mind. But it stings. He doesn't know her, and maybe he never will again.

"You loved me once," she tells him. It could still be possible, but the spell damage has proven to be permanent.

He smiles at that. "I truly am a smart man."

…

They sit together. He doesn't really speak today. Instead, he shuffles the deck of playing cards absently, staring off in the distance. Poppy wonders where he goes when his mind drifts like this. Before the accident, he was always present. Now, he's in and out, and she's left so alone.

"We're going to be okay," she tells him.

It feels impossible, and she wonders if she should say it at all. She doesn't know how or if they will ever get his mind back, but that won't stop her from trying.

One way or another, she and Gilderoy will find their happily ever after. She just has to believe.


	86. Stand Together (CrabbeGinny)

_Word Count: 364_

* * *

 _"Do you really think I'm scared of him?" Ginny demands. "I don't give a damn what Vol-"_

 _"Don't say his name," Vincent pleads, blue eyes wide with panic. "Names have power."_

 _She wants to tell him how ridiculous he is, but she can't bring herself to say it. Instead, she just shrugs her shoulders. "Whatever. Point is, I want you, Crabbe. Only you."_

 _"We can't."_

 _"We can."_

 _But he shakes his head and walks away. She wishes she could hate him for it._

 _._

She stands before the far wall in Honeydukes, but the excitement is already gone from the visit. Ginny misses the days when she could still enjoy herself. Now, with the constant threat of death hanging over hers and her family's heads, nothing seems to captivate her anymore. Things she once loved are just things.

"Wouldn't get the Acid Pops if I was you."

The deep, slow drawl makes her heart flutter. She can't bring herself to hope. _That_ dream was dead. He walked away from her, and she doesn't want to dwell on what could have been.

But she still turns, and everything seems to fall into place when she sees Vincent. Her lips quirk. "I wasn't planning to."

He steps forward so that they stand shoulder to shoulder. For several moments, neither speak. She doesn't mind; they've always managed to share comfortable silences.

"I've been thinking," he says.

"Don't do that. It's bad for you."

He laughs. The whole school thinks Vincent Crabbe is a complete idiot, but Ginny knows better. He isn't bright like Hermione, but he's clever in his own way.

"I don't want to be like my father." His fingers ghost over the back of her hand, and she shivers. "I don't want to be a Death Eater."

"Then don't."

She knows it isn't that simple. Her family are faithful members of the Order, so her choice had been easy. Vincent would have to turn his back on his family. She can't even imagine how awful that would be.

"We stand together," he says. "You and me."

"You and me," she echoes.

He presses a kiss to her cheek, and she knows that they're back to normal.


	87. Parades and Chances (PansySusan)

_Word Count: 391_

 _Royal!au_

* * *

Pansy hates these bloody parades. Why should she have to show off just because she's a princess? Honestly, it's rather tiring, and it's easy to grow bored with it. Still, she has a duty to uphold, and she plays her part.

She sits in the car, exposed for all to see. Her mother mutters that the red dress is inappropriate, but Pansy doesn't care. She likes it, and the media has always praised her for being so bold and daring in the face of tradition.

Her mind begins to drift, and it only catches again as the car slows to a painfully slow pace. She doesn't complain, though. There's a pretty girl with red hair and freckles, and Pansy falls in an instant.

"I think I'm in love," she whispers.

"That's nice, dear," her father says, clearly paying her no mind.

…

When the parade is over, she manages to escape. Unfortunately, it means her security detail has to follow her, but she can live with that. Pansy hurries through the crowd, searching for the woman she saw during the parade.

As luck would have it, she finds her, harassed by a bloke with yellow teeth and grabby hands.

"I said no!" the redhead shouts.

"Pity. I'll have to call my mates. They're not as forgiving of rudeness as I am."

Pansy doesn't have a chance to step in. One of her bodyguards moves in, easily taking control of the situation. The girl looks up, sees Pansy, and her cheeks glow red.

"You… Oh wow. You're Princess Pansy!"

Pansy smirks, holding her head high. "Oddly enough, I know that," she says, though she's turned to jelly on the inside.

"Can I… Can I have your autograph?"

"I'll do you one better. Tell me your name, and I'll take you on a date."

The blush only deepens, and Pansy can no longer tell where the girl's skin ends and her hair begins. At first, she can only open and close her mouth wordlessly. Finally, after what feels like a million years, she says, "Susan. My name is Susan Bones."

"Come on, Susan Bones. There's a cafe down the road, and I would love to take you."

Her parents will be pissed, but Pansy doesn't care. At the end of the day, she is a princess, and she will get whatever she wants.


	88. Sweet Treats (ParvatiLavender)

"I brought you your favorite," Parvati says.

Lavender looks up from the revision of the article she's editing, grinning as she sees what's in her girlfriend's hands. The new ice cream shop isn't as good as Fortescue's was, but it still has the best ice cream in all of Britain. She licks her lips, grateful for the distraction. She loves her job at the Daily Prophet, but sometimes she gets so tired from staring at words all day. She won't be surprised if she needs glasses before she retires. "You," she says as Parvati sets the ice cream sundae down on her desk, "are an absolute babe."

The chocolate drizzle over the different flavored scoops of ice cream is almost too much. Parvati even got the whipped cream and pink sugar crystals that she loves. Sometimes she wonders how she managed to get so lucky. They've been together for six years, since their seventh year at Hogwarts, and Lavender still can't believe it. In the back of her mind, she's so sure she doesn't deserve someone like Parvati; those insecurities only increased after Greyback's attack. And yet, here they are, going strong.

"Only one spoon?" Lavender asks, lifting her brows. "You usually share."

Parvati shakes her head and sits across from her. "You have been working so hard lately," she says. "I thought you deserved a special treat of your own."

Once again, Lavender is reminded of exactly how lucky she is. She digs in and lifts the spoon to her mouth, moaning softly as the cold, creamy sweetness melts on her tongue. "You sure you don't want some?" she asks, already dipping her spoon into the ice cream again.

"I'm sure."

Parvati watches her eat. Once, that had bothered her. Lavender had struggled after the attack, and her mouth had been nearly ruined. It had taken some adjusting, and she hated anyone looking at her for too long. But Parvati smiles, like she's witnessing something amazing unfolding.

"Wait." Parvati reaches into her purse and pulls out a napkin before dabbing at the corner of Lavender's mouth. "Bit messy."

Lavender laughs. "But you love me anyway."

Their lips meet in a quick kiss, and Parvati is grinning a bright, toothy grin as she pulls away. "I do," she confirms. "So much."


	89. A Way For Us (AbraxasDruella)

No one will ever find them here, and she loves it. They are hidden in plain sight atop the Astronomy Tower, but no one ever bothers. It's been this way for two years, and Druella has found it to be a sort of safe haven for her and Abraxas.

"You seem deep in thought," she notes.

Abraxas nods, sighing heavily. His long legs dangle over the ledge. It's a miracle he's never lost a shoe with the way he kicks his legs out.

She doesn't like the way he's so silent. Her beloved Abraxas is never like this. He's meant to whisper all the beautiful things in her ear that Cygnus never would and plan an impossible future with her because it's all she wants from life anymore.

"Are you going to break my heart?" she whispers, fear causing her voice to quiver. She closes her eyes, blinking away the traitorous tears that threaten to sting her eyes. She still not cry; she will be strong. "If you are, I would rather you do it now and get it over with."

Except she doesn't. She wants to cling to him and pretend they have a chance at forever. Instead, she holds her head high and proud because she is a Rosier and she will not let something like this destroy her.

"Break…?" He shakes his hand and takes her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "Druella, no. My mind is far away because Father has officially arranged for me to wed Acanthia Goyle."

She scowls at that. Her own marriage was arranged when she was only fourteen. Maybe she could have found a way to be happy with it if she hadn't fallen in love. Now it feels so much more real because he is getting married, and the universe says they shouldn't do this anymore.

"Is this goodbye?" she asks.

His arm wraps around her, pulling her close. She loves how strong he is, how the simple gesture makes her feel so safe. His familiar scent of peppermint and cedar fills her lungs as she rests her head against his chest. She wishes she could pause this moment and stay here forever.

"It doesn't have to be unless you want it to be," he answers.

She knows what he means. No one talks about affairs because it implies that someone isn't performing their duty. Even so, Druella knows they happen. Her own mother once caught her father in bed with Circe Dolohov. No one ever mentioned it; the shame was too great.

She likes to imagine she would never be like that, but she loves Abraxas. If they have to live a life of secrecy, she will take it.

"Run away with me, Dru," he says, catching her off guard. She had assumed the worst. Is it really possible that they could find a way? "Please."

And she melts. She could never say no to him, especially when it means there's hope. It's impossible, but she wants to believe.

"Of course I will."


	90. Okay (HarryDaphne)

"Is it awkward for you?" Daphne asks as she and Harry get situated on the bride's side. "I mean… You and Ginny used to…"

She can't bring herself to finish the thought. It isn't as though they're the first person the other has dated. She isn't jealous, but she doesn't really like talking about it.

Her boyfriend offers her a soft smile and rests a gentle hand on her knee, offering it a reassuring squeeze. "We broke up on good terms," he says before gesturing at all the redheads that surround them. "Besides, her family is practically my family. Does it bother you?"

She shakes her head. It doesn't. Not really. She just feels so out of place here. Some still look at her like she's a monster just because she was in Slytherin. Those people don't care that she fought for the light side.

"I'm okay," she says, and she hopes she sounds convincing enough.

Her eyes flicker to where Neville stands. In place of a best man, Luna stands so that she will be perfectly between the bride and groom since she's the one who brought them together. Luna reaches over, whispering something as she adjusts Neville's black tie.

Something about it just makes her Daphne feel even more uncomfortable. She doesn't have that level of closeness with anyone other than Harry. Maybe she never will; maybe she will always be something of an outcast.

Harry leans in, kissing her cheek. "I love you," he tells her, like he can somehow read her mind and know she needs him comfort more than anything else in this world right now.

"I love you too."

It's such a small reassurance, but it is enough. Harry loves her, and she's going to be okay.

As Ginny makes her way down the aisle, dressed in a fine silvery-white dress robe, Daphne feels calm and relaxed. She can get through anything if Harry is by her side.


	91. Chances (JohnAmelia)

_Word Count: 409_

* * *

She tries not to hate him. Maybe she should thank him for coming to her defense, but Amelia is far too livid. She could have handled it herself. "I am not a maiden in need of defending," she says, cheeks burning. "I am grown!"

John doesn't even bothered to look apologetic. He just shrugs. "They tried to imply that you wouldn't be a good Head for the department," he says. "I told them otherwise."

It isn't that simple, of course. John let his wand do the talking, and now Amelia's first day has to be spent dealing with disciplinary action.

"Back to work, Dawlish."

"Have dinner with me," he says. "Think of it as an apology."

"Out."

He seems to get the message. With another shrug, he turns and exits her office.

…

It isn't the end of it. At least twice a week, he appears in her office, offering some new date idea. Amelia always turns it down.

"I think it's sweet," Tonks says, coming in immediately after John leaves.

"Annoying," Amelia corrects. "Now, can I help you?"

…

She doesn't know what makes her say yes. Maybe it's believing that the rumors are true and Voldemort is back. Maybe it's fear of a terrible _what if_ and living with regret.

But she says yes, and then she says yes again until they fall into a routine.

"Marry me," he says one night after they've put away leftover pizza.

Maybe she should say no. They've been dating for three months, even if they've known each other so much longer. It isn't enough time.

But isn't that the point? What about her beloved brother Edgar who didn't have enough time with Fabian? What about all the lovers who knew tomorrow wasn't and took that chance?

"Okay."

And as they kiss, she knows she's made the right choice.

…

Madam Malkin holds the white lace to Amelia's chest, smiling. "You'll look absolutely lovely in this," she says.

It's beautiful, and it will make a fine dress robe, but Amelia doesn't think it's really _her._ The seamstress brings more fabric trying again and again.

"I think I'm just nervous," Amelia says with a sigh as she looks at the small mountain of material that has formed.

"All brides are, dear."

Maybe she's right. It's not like Amelia is the first who has done this.

She takes a deep breath, gesturing at a shimmery black satin. "Can I see that one again?"


	92. Protective (ArthurMolly)

_Word Count: 665_

* * *

He's at it again. Arthur doesn't know what it is about Muggles that fascinates him so much, but he's always happy when the Muggle Studies professor gives new things to tinker with.

Today, it's a golf ball. The small, dimpled thing reminds him a bit of a Golden Snitch, except it's white and doesn't have wings. Arthur sits in the shade beneath a tree by the lake, examining the ball. It's surprisingly heavy for its size.

"What have you got today?" Molly Prewett quickens her pace ever so slightly before sitting next to him.

"A golf ball," he answers. "See these dents in it? It makes it aerodynamic and allows it to go far when struck."

He's excited for all the experiments he's going to run on it. What if he found a way to imbue it with magic? He could make golf a pastime for wizards too! The strange sport could bring wizards and Muggles together!

"Tell me, Nott, do you know the difference between a Muggle and a Weasley?"

Arthur looks up, swallowing down a groan when he sees Lucius Malfoy and Caspian Nott approaching. Lucius has always loved to get under Arthur's skin.

"I don't know, Malfoy. What?"

Lucius grins. "Nothing. They're both disgusting."

Arthur rolls his eyes. Really, it's a weak joke, even for Lucius. He forces his attention back to the golf ball, but looks up again when he Molly climbs to her feet. "Leave him alone, Malfoy," she says sharply.

Arthur jumps up, his stomach growing sour. The last thing he wants is for Molly to interfere and get hurt. He's used to the taunts and insults by now; he can handle it.

Lucius turns his gaze to her. "Or what? Going to use domestic magic on me?" he asks with a sneer. "Going to iron my clothes? You're almost as bad as Weasley here. I don't know why either of you bother with school. Just go join a freakshow."

Arthur doesn't even think; he just reacts, and his knuckles crash into Lucius' mouth.

…

"Would you like to tell me what happened?" Professor Dumbledore asks.

Arthur adjusts his tie. "Malfoy… Er… I may have punched him," he answers. "It's a blur, sir."

"May?" the headmaster echoes. "I believe his busted lip is a testament to your action."

 _Busted lip._ Arthur tries not to look too pleased, but he's sure he fails. "He insulted Molly," he says. "He can talk bad about me all he wants. I hear it all the time." A heat creeps into his cheeks, spreading down his neck. He really is pathetic. "But Molly is too good for that."

Dumbledore gives him a knowing smile that only makes the blush deepen. Arthur would give anything to melt into a puddle and disappear.

"Ah, young love. Miss Prewett is a wonderful girl."

"I'm not sure if it's love. She doesn't even know."

Arthur realizes he's rambling about his feelings to the headmaster. He clears his throat, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck. Could he get any weirder? Probably, but he doesn't want to find out.

"Look, Professor Dumbledore, I know I'm in trouble. Can I just get my sentence, please?" he asks.

"Very well. A week's detention with your Head of House," he says.

It could be worse.

…

"I hope you didn't get in too much trouble," Molly says, joining Arthur in the common room.

He's abandoned his golf ball in favor of something called a fellytone, and he's taking it apart, piece by piece when she finds him. "Not much," he confirms with a smile.

"Why on earth would you punch him?"

"He was rude to you," Arthur says, blushing. "I didn't like that."

She looks like she wants to say something, but understanding seems to wash over her. With a smile she leans in. "Oh, Arthur," she laughs before kissing him gently on the cheek. "I didn't need to be rescued, but I couldn't have asked for a better hero."


	93. Dresses and Dates (TeddyRoxanne)

_Word Count:_ 331

* * *

Roxanne doesn't want to leave the house at all. The weather is nice and cloudy, and all she wants to do is climb into bed, curl up with countless blankets, and sleep. Instead, she lifts the mint green dress up and presses it against her chest, frowning at the mirror. She likes it well enough, but it isn't really _her._ With a groan, she tosses it to the side.

"You know," Teddy says, entering their bedroom with a smirk, "some of aren't having to deal with this last minute thing because we're actually organized."

Roxanne narrows her eyes at her boyfriend, scowling. "Watch it."

His smirk only broadens. "If the shoe fits…"

"Turn around, bend over," Roxanne says sweetly as she lifts a pastel yellow sundress up this time. "I'll show you where my shoe fits."

He laughs, sitting on the bed and watching her in the mirror. Roxanne grins. Something about his gaze makes her feel special, like she's the only other person in the world.

"You are the worst, Roxy," he teases. "Just pick a dress. Yellow is really your color. Choose that one."

He's right, of course. The yellow brings out the gold flecks in her brown eyes. Still, deciding on a dress doesn't mean she actually wants to go to this silly event.

"Can't I just cuddle up and sleep for an eternity?" she asks with a pout. "That sounds nice."

He stares at her for several moments before laughing and shaking his head. "You know eternal sleep is death, right?" he asks, his tone light and teasing. "As it happens, I'm quite fond of you being alive."

"But sleep…"

Moves up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her neck. "Wear the yellow," he says softly. "We can sneak off before the thing is over and come back, hot cocoa and cuddling under the blankets."

She meets his gaze in the mirror and offers him a satisfied smile. "It's a date."


	94. Rainy Day News (FredHermione)

_Word Count: 398_

* * *

It would be better to Apparate, especially in this weather. Thunder rolls, and rain mercilessly pours, plastering Hermione's curls to her face, but she keeps walking. Her mind is far too distracted; she would splinch herself in a heartbeat.

It takes nearly an hour, but she finally reaches the small house she and Fred have set up for themselves. Even as the rain continues to fall, she stands there, frozen in place, her eyes fixed upon the soft yellow glow radiating from the window. It isn't a big deal. Well… It is, but she knows her boyfriend won't be upset.

Still, she feels weak suddenly. Hermione takes a deep breath and ducks her head against the rain, quickening her pace. Everything will be okay.

"Hermione?" Fred calls when she enters the living room, water dripping from her clothes and forming a pool at her feet. "You're drenched."

"I know." She smoothes her hand over her curls, sending more water splashing to the floor. "I'm sorry I made you wait."

As expected, he isn't bothered by it. That's one thing she's always loved about him. Hermione is always so caught up in order and rules, but Fred lives in the moment. Maybe she envies him for it a little bit.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me," he says, offering her a bright grin that makes her melt a little more. "What about you? Was I right? You were so worried, and it's just a little stomach bug, isn't it?"

Her stomach twists. Right. The reason she had been worried in the first place. She opens her mouth, but the words refuse to come out.

"Mum has a soup she makes," he tells her, peeling away her wet jacket. "Go dry off, and I'll see if she can make some."

"I'm pregnant."

The jacket falls to the floor, and he stares at her with wide, shocked eyes. At first, he seems unable to speak. He swallows dryly and takes a step back. Maybe Hermione was wrong; maybe they aren't strong enough to get through this.

But then Fred laughs. "Blimey… A dad? I'm going to be a dad?"

Before Hermione can answer, he closes the distance between them and rests a hand on her stomach. He presses a kiss to her lips. "I never knew I wanted this," he whispers.

And it's all she needs. They're going to be okay.


	95. Match (PansyAstoria)

_Word Count: 431_

* * *

Astoria doesn't mind the balls her parents host. They're much more relaxed than most pure-blood events. Still, something keeps her fixed to the wall. It wouldn't hurt to dance, but she is far too hesitant.

"Come on," Daphne says, grabbing Astoria's had and dragging her along.

"Where are you taking me?"

Her older sister looks back, mischief in her green eyes. Whatever she has planned has been in the works for a long time. "I'm about to change your life."

"What do you mean by that?" Astoria asks.

She can't help but to be nervous. Daphne knows that Astoria likes girls, but she isn't open about it yet. Even though her parents don't care, there's still too much danger in it. Anyone could see. Her life could be ruined.

Daphne leads her outside to their parents' garden, far away from prying eyes. Behind a trellis of climbing pink flowered vines, a girl is waiting.

Astoria recognizes Pansy Parkinson instantly and smiles. Pansy is a goddess in her black dress. A golden serpent bracelet wraps up her arm, contrasting beautifully with her olive skin.

"Hi," Pansy says.

"Hi."

Astoria silently curses her sister for not telling her _who_ they would be meeting. There's a part of her that has fancied Pansy since her first year; of course, she would never dare voice that, not even to Daphne.

"Your sister thinks she's a matchmaker," Pansy says, laughing softly.

"Would you like to be my match?" Astoria asks, and she hates how silly she sounds. Why couldn't she be more eloquent?

Pansy smiles at her. "I think so."

Daphne claps her hands together, beaming at them. "Right. Well, I'm going to back inside. Blaise is waiting for me."

Astoria watches her sister walk away, and she suddenly feels very nervous. What is she supposed to do? Pansy is so lovely and elegant. Astoria is completely lost.

"May I have this dance?" Pansy asks, holding out her hand.

Astoria accepts, allowing Pansy to lead her in a dance, guided by the soft sounds of violins spilling out from the windows. She is tense, but she manages to relax. Pansy is an excellent lead.

"I hoped it was you when Daphne said she knew someone I might like," Pansy tells her.

"You did?"

The older girl nods, pausing in their graceful dance and pulling Astoria close. "I did," she says softly, leaning in. "I'm glad I was right."

Their lips meet, and Astoria knows it's meant to be. Maybe destiny and fate are bizarre concepts, but Pansy is enough to make her believe for a moment.


	96. Questions (Perciver)

i.

"Do you mind if I have this bed?" Oliver asks. "I sleep better if I'm by the window."

Percy nods. He doesn't know why, but it's so easy to say yes to the other boy. "Sure. Have it."

ii.

"What'd I miss?" Oliver asks, sliding in beside Percy and offering him an apologetic smile.

It isn't like Percy really understands Quidditch. Charlie rambles about a fair bit, and the twins are always trying to learn to fly and aim. Percy has picked up on enough, though. "Hufflepuff nearly knocked our Keeper through the post," he answers.

Maybe he doesn't care too much about Quidditch, but he likes the way Oliver smiles when he watches the match.

iii.

"Do you think I'll make an okay captain?" Oliver asks, standing in front of the mirror and standing tall and proud.

Percy snorts because it's a stupid question. Everyone with half a brain knows Oliver is the most passionate person at school when it comes to Quiddtich. Between his love for the game and natural charisma, he's a perfect match. "You'll do brilliantly."

And Oliver looks pleased, like that's all it takes for him to believe.

iv.

"So, you and Penny seem pretty serious. How's that going?"

And it should be easy to answer. Boyfriends are supposed to love their girlfriends, and happily ever after is supposed to exist. Maybe he _does_ care for Penny, but not the way he should.

Not the way he cares about his best friend.

He can't tell Oliver that, of course. It could change things, and he's terrified that maybe Oliver can be pushed away.

Instead, he smiles and prays it's convincing. "Great," he says, adjusting his glasses. "Couldn't be happier."

v.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Oliver asks.

Percy looks up, eyes burning. He should say no; he's had enough to drink, and alcohol isn't going to bring Fred back. Instead, he nods and sniffles.

Oliver calls for two glasses of wine before turning back to Percy. "I'm so sorry." His hand rests on Percy's thigh, and Percy barely suppresses a shiver. "Let me be there for you."

Maybe it's the grief. Maybe it's just the kindness. Whatever the reason, Percy leans in, clinging to Oliver and pressing a desperate kiss to his lips.

Oliver doesn't pull away. He just holds Percy tighter and kisses him hard.

It doesn't take the pain away, but maybe it's the smallest chance for a baby step.


	97. Snowy Days (GinnyLuna)

_Word Count 400_

* * *

"It's freezing!" Ginny says with a huff as she follows her girlfriend through the town square, the snow crunching beneath her shoes.

Luna turns, grinning. Her pale skin is flushed pink, and snowflakes litter her hair. Even her teeth are chattering, but it doesn't seem to bother her at all. "I know!" she says, somehow completely chipper despite the miserable weather. "Isn't it great?"

They're in the center of the square looks around. Pubs, cafes, shops. There are so many cozy areas within walking distance, but Luna seems perfectly content to stay out here in the bloody snow.

"Wrackspurts don't like the cold," Luna says absently, bending down and scooping snow into her hands. She tosses it into the air, smiling as it rains down like frozen confetti. "Maybe that's why I love it so much. Easier to think."

Ginny hates the cold. Although she enjoys snowball fights with her brothers and trying to build a better snowman than Ron, she would much rather be in front of a crackling fire, sipping on hot cocoa. It doesn't matter, though. At the end of the day, Luna's happiness means the world to her. As long as Luna is enjoying herself, Ginny can handle the cold.

"What are you thinking about?" Ginny asks.

Luna's mind is such a brilliant thing. At school, people called her names because they couldn't understand her. Once, Ginny had been like that too, but she has long since discovered how beautiful it is to see the world through her girlfriend's eyes.

"I'm thinking about how nice it is to be out with you," Luna answers, smiling so warmly that Ginny can almost forget how cold it is outside. "I remember how lovely it was to have my first friend. I still seems strange to me that you became more than that."

"Strange?" Ginny echoes with a grin. "I can't believe _you_ would find anything strange."

Luna shrugs. "Maybe there are still some things I struggle to believe in."

Ginny reaches out, taking Luna's hand gently in her own. "I'll help you to believe," she says. "In the meantime, coffee? Not all of us are snow princesses."

Luna chuckles and allows herself to be lead along. As they settle into the cafe and wait for their drinks, Ginny watches the wind carry flurries of snow across the square. Maybe the cold isn't so bad after all.


	98. Boys of Summer (TeddyVictoire)

_Word Count: 424_

* * *

Victoire loves days like this. She sits on the beach, enjoying the warmth of the sun with her sister. Louis is off collecting shells with Aunt Gabrielle. Teddy, as he often is when he visits Shell Cottage during the summer, is in the water; Victoire sometimes wonders it he might be part merperson, as much as he loves the water.

"You and Teddy, huh?" Dominique notes, adjusting her sunglasses and lifting her bottled water to her lips. She takes a sip. "I'm just saying, if you really loved me, you would share him."

"Awesome," Victoire says with a snort and a roll of her eyes. "Wow. Really, Dom?"

Unabashed, her sister just grins and leans back, brushing sand off her pink bikini bottoms. She shrugs but doesn't offer any further explanation. Victoire waits for a few moments. When it becomes clear the younger girl isn't going to say anything else, Victoire climbs to her feet.

Sand clings to her long legs, but she doesn't bother to wipe it away. Instead, she quickens her pace and hurries to join Teddy, slowing only when the gentle waves hit her legs.

"You need to get your sea legs," Teddy teases, grinning as he navigates through the waves with ease.

Victoire shrugs. "Not all of us are part fish," she says.

"I'll have you know my father was a werewolf, not a salmon." He moves closer, and just looking at him makes her heart race. "You okay? You look like you might pass out."

Victoire swallows dryly and nods. Maybe she can understand how Dominique could be somewhat envious of her. Teddy is gorgeous, and his kindness is more beautiful than anything.

"Come on," he says, taking her head and pulling her deeper into the water. "I found a new dive spot."

Truth be told, Victoire would much rather be back on dry land. At the very least, she would prefer to be in the shallowest spot, watching tiny fish swim in the clear water. She doesn't love swimming the way Teddy does.

But she loves Teddy more than she loves the sand and sun, and she doesn't have a problem following him. When he shows her the spot and teaches her to dive without equipment, she tries, and she has a smile on her face the whole time.

Maybe she will never truly share his passions, but it doesn't matter. She will go along with it because she knows he does the same for her. In the end, they are both happy, and that's all she wants.


	99. After the Interview (GilderoyRita)

_Word Count: 460_

* * *

"In the long run," Gilderoy says, leaning forward in his chair and lightly slapping his palm against the table for emphasis, "I think my greatest fear is being seen as average. When my time is up, have I done enough? Will the world be a better place for the work I've done?"

Rita's quill scribbles away, but her sharp eyes are fixed upon him. If he's honest, it's a little daunting. Most reporters are easy enough to dazzle with a bright smile, but Rita Skeeter is as clever as they come. There's a part of him that wonders if she can see past him somehow, if she has figured out his secret.

As terrifying as it is, he admires her for it. It isn't enough that she is beautiful and talented. She is ruthless and would do anything to get ahead.

She adjusts the thin, silver chain around her neck. Attached to it as a quill charm. How fitting. "Thank you for your time, Gilderoy," she says, snapping her fingers. Her Quick-Quote Quill falls to the table, and the parchment wraps itself neatly. "The interview will run next Tuesday."

She climbs to her feet. In only a few moments, she will be out the door, and Gilderoy will probably go months without seeing her again. He has to act now.

Summoning all the courage he has, he offers her a bright grin and reaches out, gently curling his fingers around her slender wrist. "Before you go, there's something I have to ask you."

It should be easy for the fake Gilderoy Lockhart. He is brave and clever, and he's faced countless life-or-death situations throughout the years. All he would have to do is smile, and the world would be his.

But he isn't actually the fake Gilderoy, and it takes a moment to find the right words.

"Yes?" Rita prompts.

"It's my birthday today, you see," he explains.

She doesn't look surprised. He supposes it's common enough knowledge. After all, he's received parcels and letters all morning from fans wanting to wish him a happy birthday.

"I usually don't do anything for it. Thus is the tragedy of fame, I suppose! Not a moment of peace for those like myself," he says, chuckling. "I think I would like to change that this year."

"What do you have in mind?"

Maybe he can do this after all. There's something about the gorgeous reporter that makes it easy somehow.

"Have dinner with me. There's this wonderful place in Milan I'm rather fond of."

She smiles. All the fear Gilderoy felt moments earlier fades with that gentle quirk of her lips. "As an extension of the interview, or…?"

"As a date."

Her smile broadens into a grin. "I thought you would never ask."


	100. When Love Isn't Enough (Rabdromeda)

_Word Count: 335_

* * *

"My dog speaks more eloquently," Andromeda teases, amused by the hint of pink that spreads across Rabastan's cheeks. "Spit it out."

He turns away, and she can see the tension in his shoulders. It's easy enough to guess where this is going. The two of them have been close for so long, and it's inevitable. Now, if only Rabastan could get past all the stumbling and stammering.

"I love you," he manages.

She nods because she knows. She loves him too, but she can't bring herself to say it. The world is falling apart, and Rabastan wants to help break it. Andromeda can see the revolution that's slowly beginning, the forces that are going to rise up.

"Say something," he says.

"Talk less," she answers because she's so afraid that words will ruin this moment. "Smile more."

Their lips meet. She will not tell him she loves him. She only hopes he will know.

…

Their paths are different. She chooses light, and Rabastan becomes consumed by prejudice and hate.

She has a life now, a family with her husband and daughter. Really, she's happy. This is what she's always wanted, someone to love and to love her, something so beautiful and unconditional.

Somehow, it isn't quite enough. There's something missing, and she finds herself longing.

She knows what's missing, but she'll never say what.

…

"Have you seen?" Ted asks, already setting the newspaper in front of her, a look of pity in his kind eyes.

Her heartbreak when she sees Rabastan's photo and the caption declaring his crimes. It hurts, and she hates the way the tears cling to her lashes. She shouldn't care, but she can't help it.

Through it all, Ted is kind and good, and he understands. He wraps an arm around her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry, Andi," he says quietly. "I know you loved him."

And even now, as it feels like her world is falling apart, she can't even bring herself to admit it.


End file.
